


Open My Eyes

by StarlightSquadron



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Character Development, Character Study, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Order, Force Bond (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Resistance, Reylo - Freeform, Romance, Star Wars: The Last Jedi Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-02-19 01:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13112916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightSquadron/pseuds/StarlightSquadron
Summary: The first time they’d parted, the earth had split between them, leaving them on either side of the abyss.The second time—after the battle on Crait, where the earth had bled amirite mineral like blood—she had stood on the ramp of theMillennium Falcon, ready to leave at last. He had kneeled down inside the ruins of the base.He had looked up at her; they’d watched each other across the vast distance.There was no anger in their hearts then. For the briefest time, they had known how it felt not to be afraid. The soul is reluctant to let go of such things.Everything needs time to heal. Some things must be lost, before they can be built anew.





	1. Consonance

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins very shortly after the end of The Last Jedi.

_“I’ve never felt so alone.”_

_“You’re not alone.”_

_“Neither are you.”_

______

 

_You’re so lonely. So afraid to leave…_

_Afraid._ Always had Rey been afraid. Of realizing she was alone. Of acknowledging the truth she had known all along; buried deep in her heart.

The pain and grief tore through her, left gaping, burning holes inside her, the being she had thought herself to be. A wound, reopened. The truth was concealed no more.

_You came from nothing. You’re nothing. But not to me._

Two hearts aflame. Two souls entwined. Light and darkness and everything in between. A sphere of calm, of clarity, in the midst of the chaos. The balance was still fragile, askew… and yet—

A spark. A fire. A hope.

For once in their lives, everything else was silent, all the white noise faded away.

As the world fell apart around them, they were still here. And maybe, she had thought—maybe that was all they needed.

 

In this moment, they were no longer afraid.

 

_Join me_ , his voice said, as he offered her his hand.

_Don’t leave me_ , his eyes said, the plea of a devastated soul. Always torn between darkness and light, loyalty and betrayal.

_Please._

 

_Don’t do this, Ben… Please don’t go this way._

 

And the world had begun to fall apart.

Like the _Supremacy_ , the massive ship torn apart as the Resistance cruiser rammed it at lightspeed, falling away in pieces.

Like the cracked kyber crystal inside the Skywalker lightsaber, broken by incredible forces tearing it in a devastating fight.

She looked down at the crystal resting in her palm, freed from the confinement of the handle. An uneven line ran down the center, exposing some of its glittering core. She wondered if it could be used as the core of the weapon still; if the saber could be made anew, if the blade would now be fiery and unstable, like Ben Solo’s.

But she had hope. After all, she was simply a scavenger from Jakku, accustomed to salvaging broken parts and mending them anew. One of the most important things she’d had to learn during her life was that few things were ever broken beyond repair.

 

_You have that look in your eyes…_

The first time they’d parted, the ground had split between them, leaving them on either side of the abyss. Him lying, wounded, on the ground of the snow-covered forest.

He’d looked at her with sadness and regret.

The second time they’d parted, truly parted—after the battle on Crait, where the earth had bled amirite mineral like blood—she had stood on the ramp of the _Millennium Falcon_ , ready to leave at last. He had kneeled down inside the ruins of the base.

He had looked up at her. She had sensed it through their bond. And there had been that same silence, the blissful absence of all insubstantial noise, leaving only the whisperings of two souls in its center. _Freedom_. Then the ramp had closed, the _Falcon_ had departed, and she’d tried to silence it all.

There was no anger in their hearts then. For the briefest time, they had known how it felt not to be afraid. The soul is reluctant to let go of such things.

In his eyes, she saw grief.

Rey knew grief. She knew pain. She knew how it felt to be alone.

 

She stood at the ship’s viewport, watching the blue waves of hyperspace, casting a sheen of eerie light.

_Snoke lied_ , she thought. _The bond—it’s still there. I can still feel it… I can still sense him._

It had not died with him. And so it must have also existed, before any of them knew of it.

Something else; something utterly powerful and all-encompassing.

Even now. In moments like these when she wasn’t seeing him, talking to him… a faint echo; like a memory, of anguish—anger, disappointment, shame… _Devastation_. And above it all, the loneliness she had found mirrored in her own heart. That fiery anger was superficial, unreal. But the loneliness had its roots deep down, in the very depths of his soul.

It was something she still hardly understood herself. She was aboard this ship, alive, surrounded by her friends who were also alive and well, despite everything.

Yet the universe felt like a cold place, an emptiness she carried inside her. A vital piece of herself torn away.

 

There were less than two dozen Resistance members crammed together aboard the Corellian freighter.

Those were all the people who had made it through—survived the battle and the ruthless chase through space with the First Order on their tails. Rey realized that without the help—and sacrifice—of Luke; without her and Chewie, none of these people might have made it.

It was something. It was a spark. It was hope, and the cause they represented.

Less than two dozen left, and still they might make all the difference.

 

“The Outer Rim territories is our best option,” Leia said. “We have allies there. Ships and supplies. Hideouts that have so far been allowed to remain hidden.”

“But those allies received your distress signal from Crait,” Rey said. “They received it, and yet they didn’t come to your aid. They left you to the mercy of the First Order.”

“Some of them, yes.” The other woman smiled sadly. Leader, general, princess. Sister, mother. “But others didn’t. Or they received it, but were unable to arrive in time. We’re not on our own. The Resistance still has allies, people who are willing to believe in our cause—to fight for the Republic.”

 

Less than two dozen people, and yet their presence in the Force was overwhelmingly bright. A mass of energy, of light, surrounding her at all times. Finn, and Finn’s pilot friend Poe. The young woman, Rose, who had been severely wounded—though she had not yet woken, Rey sensed a powerful glow of life within the other woman. Leia and Chewbacca. Some members of Poe’s squadron. And a few of the commanding members.

Together, they mourned their losses. Healed their wounds. Sang songs and told stories, of past battles, of heroes and villains and all those who had fallen. Despite everything, they allowed themselves to feel hope.

Rey felt their life, their joys and sorrows, and as she heard them laugh and weep and exchange stories, she couldn’t help but think of another story—the story of a boy who was abandoned and lost, left to fall into deep darkness and despair.

He must have hated this ship, she thought, for all the times he had to watch it disappear into the sky, carrying his family away from him.

 

They talked about a vice admiral named Amilyn Holdo, who apparently had been in command during Leia’s period of absence. They told of how Holdo had volunteered to stay behind on the _Raddus_ as the rest of the Resistance fled to safety. How she had piloted the cruiser to collide with the _Supremacy_ at lightspeed, destroying both ships and sacrificing herself, giving the Resistance a chance to escape.

They talked of her and her deeds with fondness. Apparently, she had been an extraordinary leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are again. I have a couple of ideas for this. It’s definitely going to be several chapters. Then we’ll see how it goes. The Last Jedi blew me away, and my love for these characters is deeper than ever.
> 
> Dedicated to my sister in the Force, LadyLionhart—with the hope that this will help give you hope. <3 May your wishes and dreams come true, as so many of our Reylo dreams came true in TLJ (I still can’t believe this movie is actually real).
> 
> Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays, Reylo fam. And may the Force be with you, always.


	2. Ascension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sooner or later the fire dies down, and I'll open my eyes again._
> 
> "Anger", Sleeping at Last

_“The Supreme Leader is dead.”_

_“… Long live the Supreme Leader.”_

 

**

 

His mind was a desolate landscape of ashes, fires and storms.

Before him was a sea of officers in dark uniforms, insignias gleaming in the dim light.

Their faces swam in Kylo's vision, indistinguishable from one another. All sounds seemed muffled. The room was a blur of greys.

He felt like he was drowning.

_Weakness_ , a voice whispered inside him. His master’s voice.

No. It couldn’t be. Snoke was gone. All of _this_ should be gone…

The fires burned inside him. Though it had stilled from the raging inferno he’d felt during the battle, when facing his former master… now the anger, the fear, was a quieter flame; a steady, constant ache.

_Despair._

Snoke was gone—he’d killed his master… And as for Rey—

So _why_?

_Because it was never truly Snoke_ , another voice whispered. _Your greatest enemy was always **yourself.**_

His thoughts instinctively drifted to her—his mind creating a perfect image, bright and vivid.

How she had looked when standing in the throne room; and earlier, in the hut on the sacred island, flames illuminating her features—that brightness in her eyes. Her voice, when she had called him by his old name—when she had offered to help him…

Darkness returned, swallowing him in its flood. His heart was on fire. Yet, at the very center of it all, in the deepest, most hidden part of his soul, the part of him which had been fully awakened during the fight in the throne room, while he was _with_ her… she was still there. An illuminating presence, bright as a star. The look in her eyes after he had slain his master; when he had offered her his hand and the galaxy…

And she had refused…

_Don’t do this, Ben. Please don’t go this way._

The world had burned around them, ready to collapse into the chaos of annihilation.

When he’d returned to consciousness, she had been gone.

The pain inside him felt somehow deeper, searing—betrayal and grief.

_But not anger—not hatred… never hatred…_

For a brief moment, there had been silence. Blissful, new, exhilarating. All because of her, her presence, their bond. In the epicenter of the chaos, there had been quiet.

They had stood amidst the flames and debris, the dead bodies of Snoke’s elite guards scattered around them. A moment of quiet, and then everything had come crashing down; their words, their voices, their emotions, the looks of grief in their eyes, had torn everything to pieces. A few words were all it took. One misstep, one wrong sentence spoken to force them down different paths…

_Or maybe it was all doomed from the start_ , his doubt whispered.

For just a moment, everything had seemed… peaceful. For the first time, everything had seemed right.

_It was not enough._

Snoke was dead, they were alive, yet still it was not _enough_. It never would be.

The pain of the knowledge burned in him. The darkness had come slowly, creeping, the rage waiting to devour him wholly. While in the midst of its maelstrom he’d sworn to _defeat_ her, to destroy her… now, mere hours after the battle, he felt only deep, excruciating shame. Regret. Despair. The anger was a shadow of something that didn’t feel real. Maybe it had never been.

_… Neither are you._

_It isn’t too late…_

How he’d lied to himself. He couldn’t destroy her. This was something he knew with certainty. Not for thousands of reasons, many of which he couldn’t even name. Not after everything…

_Your greatest enemy was always yourself._

Rey was gone. The determination was gone, and so was the energy of the fight, the wild fervour, the exhilaration. So was the anger. The universe had become empty and cold, all in the span of hours, moments. Where was he? What had happened? It hardly mattered now.

“Supreme Leader,” an officer said, breaking through the dense fog that had settled over his mind. He would have to get used to this—all of this. He _must_ not break, not now.

“All of this is an urgent matter which we must address accordingly,” the officer continued. “We must decide, one way or another, what our strategy will be moving forward. If the First Order does not seize this chance, this moment in which we may call ourselves the sole governmental power in the galaxy—”

“We must make a statement,” said General Hux, “one which will create the same effect, if not as practical, as the demonstration of the Starkiller. We must show the people, once and for all, the span of our power, what the First Order is truly capable of—the power, the potential to rise beyond even the might of the Empire.”

The general took a brisk step forward, hands clasped behind him. “This is a time of great tumult and disorder, but we must not make this transition something which enemies may use against us, a sign of weakness which they may exploit. To the galaxy at large, the First Order must appear as invincible, as strong, as united as ever before.”

“But this… transition will have consequences,” an older officer said. Kylo did not remember her name. He found he hardly cared—all these people were alike; all of them so unbearably stubborn, tiresome, _ignorant._

The galaxy would require something _new_ , in order to ensure true, lasting progress—this he realized. As to what that something was… he felt like he was still in the shadows, searching for something he didn’t know how to look for.

It was terrifying how little all of this seemed to matter without her by his side. _Weakness._ _He_ was in possession of greater power than ever before—yet he felt more lost than ever, as though every string had been cut off, tying him to some semblance of what was _real._

All so… empty.

_No_ , he thought. _It has to matter—some of this must mean something…_

But was this not the only way? _Despite_ the things she had said…

_But what if Snoke was wrong?_ a voice whispered in his mind, _and_ you _are a fool for blindly following your master’s path, even after you wiped him from existence…_

_This_ might very well be the greatest weakness.

What if she had been right all along?

He felt his entire existence shaking, the truths he had relied himself on, evaporating like the earth crumbling beneath his feet.

The same officer continued, “It will take time, for our own Order to reassemble. Our next step, to secure full domination of the worlds we control and begin to spread that dominance wider—even with the destruction of the Senate and the Resistance—”

“All of the Resistance was not destroyed,” he said quietly. The scattered murmurs and sounds in the room—an official meeting hall on one of the great Star Destroyers—immediately died out. Their emotions were a quiet cacophony of a strange, zealous energy; suspicion, fear, mistrust. It wasn’t as though he could blame them. They would have to learn who he was. And if they must learn to fear him in order to respect him—if _this_ was how he would move forward, so be it.

“R— Supreme Leader,” Hux said coolly. “Most of the Resistance—what remained of it—was destroyed during the battle. Only dozens could have had a chance of surviving.”

He saw how the general’s attitude had changed; not quite meeting his eyes, an air of bitter regret about him. Some of it probably still caused by humiliation.

“Dozens,” Kylo repeated slowly, “and yet, their movement, their _cause_ lives on; their symbol a beacon that people at the far edges of the galaxy can rally about. The Resistance lives on. The First Order must not make the same mistakes the old Empire did.” _Indeed, we must rise beyond_ , he thought, _far beyond… The First Order is not the Empire, with good reason. To endure, it must be more…_ “This is a time of war, of disorder, but we must not let it dissolve into chaos. We must find a solid ground; take this opportunity to unite as many of our forces as we can once and for all, to build a government which may bring the new order this galaxy desperately craves.”

He felt their attention turning to him fully as he spoke; assessing this person whom they were now to answer to, who had taken the place as their Supreme Leader.

These two-dozen people had all been told the same story. The story of the young woman, possibly Jedi, a new powerful enemy, who had breached the security systems of the _Supremacy_ ; had succeeded in reaching Snoke’s throne room without getting caught, where through wielding some incredible, unprecedented power she had ultimately defeated the former Leader. She had escaped afterwards, in the tumult of the battle. That had been Kylo’s first failure as a leader.

Not all parts of this lie, this manipulated truth, would be revealed to the Order at large. Such knowledge might only cause disturbances, complications.

He knew Hux was unlikely to have accepted it as the whole truth—for that, he feared the general was too inconveniently clever. Whatever suspicions the other had… at least they would remain suspicions. No one could bear witness, could prove what had truly happened in the throne room during the battle. No one but him and Rey.

“How do you propose that we act, Supreme Leader?” Hux said, an icy tone in his voice.

“Our forces are scattered—our commanders across the galaxy are awaiting orders of how to proceed,” Captain Hahna said.

Kylo walked slowly to the viewport, watching the coldly blinking stars beyond. How did one rule an empire? How did one _unite_ a galaxy torn apart and scattered in pieces? How did one create order, stability, from chaos?

_There must be a way; a way that is right_ , he thought. _I must find it…_ Right and wrong were visions, flashing in his mind, contrasting ideas overlapping.

He said, “General Hux will send word to assemble all of the high command council on the dreadnought _Enlightenment_ at Primtara. The fleet commanders will rendezvous there as well, until a final plan is decided.”

A great part of the First Order’s fleet remained in shambles after the recent battles—they would need time to restore that strength, to expand their forces.

He silently pondered his decision. The high command council tended to be strictly military, but so was the core of the First Order. This was how Snoke had meant to achieve control, to enforce order and create progress.

This might very well end in chaos. One way or another, he must prevent that from happening, find order and stability somewhere in between.

None of the commanders made any attempt to speak. This first meeting, if it could be called such, must be considered ended. He could sense the darkness looming on the horizon—it felt as if he were instinctively rushing toward it, carried by an unstoppable tide.

A tall, stoic woman in white uniform stepped forward. Halting a few meters away, Grand Admiral Rae Sloane raised a hand to her heart.

“The Supreme Leader is dead,” she said in a powerful voice.

The answer was spoken by every other officer present in the room, the words blending together as a single, monotone voice:

_“… Long live the Supreme Leader.”_

 

_How does one rule an empire?_

He was back in his chambers aboard the _Finalizer_ —a temporary arrangement as they travelled to the Primtara sector where a significant part of the fleet was already gathered. The First Order headquarters would be moved to one of the vast Star Dreadnoughts. This was also temporary.

Where it would all go from there, he did not know. When he thought of all these things that used to _matter_ so much, his mind was bleak. Everything ahead of him seemed a blur—the future veiled in shadows.

_What do you want?_ a voice whispered in his head.

_Why did you kill him?_

_Why did you kill your master?_

_To show that I no longer needed him_ , his wrath would answer, _that he was weak, and I was_ powerful _, more powerful than he could imagine…_

_… To save her._

Kylo watched the starscape beyond the viewport as it was replaced by the blue glow of hyperspace.

He thought of the look in her eyes in their last shared vision, before she had left the planet and cut him off.

He knew the bond was not gone—he could sense it, sense _her_ , as brightly as the stars, as presently as the whirlwind of doubt in his heart. Her presence was one of clarity, of calm—though deep down, he felt another echo of emotion; something like grief.

Sometimes all he knew was a terrifying silence.

The silence was such a stark contrast to the unity, the harmony, the _peacefulness_. _The soul is reluctant to let go._ For this was no peaceful silence. In this dim quiet, the anger would come, the darkness… A feeling that if he could only dissolve into the rage, the power; if he could burn the galaxy to cinders, then the other voices inside his mind might finally be gone. _Forever._

He had killed Snoke…

It had not been enough.

_Still it isn’t enough; still I am only failing…_

He breathed deeply, unclenching his hand; he held it up before his face, watching the way the strange blue light illuminated the skin and the veins tracing across it. Her tear-filled eyes filled his inner vision, and he felt his chest tighten with despair. _Shame._ All the things they had found, only to lose it. So many things that could have been. Such deep, searing pain.

_Too late._

Fresh memories flashing through his mind—the pain, the rage, the battle; the image of Luke Skywalker…

_Let the past die._ Never had it seemed more impossible.

There were so few things he felt certain of.

_The war is just beginning._

All this felt like the beginning of an end; a straightforward course toward certain doom.

 

**

 

_When we touched hands, I saw your future… Just the shape of it, but solid and clear._

 

**

 

The _Millennium Falcon_ , carrying the surviving members of the Resistance, reached the planet Liintaar a standard day after the battle of Crait—due to the _Falcon_ ’s low fuel level, they’d had to risk stopping at a station located in deep space. They’d also been able to get a medic droid to properly inspect the still-unconscious Rose. The people who had received them at the station had been prepared for them, and did not object to aiding members of the Resistance—probably Leia had known this, and briefed them beforehand about their arrival.

Liintaar was a remote world in the Outer Rim, orbited by three moons, with no other known settlements or affiliations than the old, secret Alliance base hidden on its surface. From space, Rey thought it looked undisturbed, almost tranquil.

It was an ideal spot for a Resistance hideout. No space traffic ever made it to this system; few people even knew of the planet’s existence.

The ground base was already inhabited by people who had apparently been awaiting their arrival, many of whom seemed to be scattered about the hangar doing different tasks as they made their landing approach. These must be some of the allies Leia had spoken of, Rey thought. Were they of the Resistance, or simply allies of the former Galactic Senate? Probably the difference between those two was becoming still less significant.

Everything seemed to happen in a haze. The wounded were tended to. Rey saw Leia heading to speak with the person who appeared to be in charge here. People whose names or identities she didn’t know showed them their new accommodations, somewhere in the maze of corridors of what must have served as base for the rebellion; in a different time, a different war.

Rey tried to remain alert, aware, to absorb all these new impressions, but she found that the constant noise and movement of all this sudden life was almost overwhelming to her senses.

A couple of hours upon arriving, most of the survivors from Crait seemed to have assembled in the medical center—many wished to stay with those still wounded, their comrades who might need them. Dark and terrible experiences, like a battle, are often best endured in the company of people who were in the same place, who felt the horror and dread; who, too, can bear witness to what happened there.

She found Finn among the rest, and took her friend’s hand to hold tightly; both of them needing the assurance that the other was indeed real. Her eyes met his in silence. Both of them would have things to share, stories to tell—it would all come, in time.

In this moment, Rey didn’t think as much of what she might tell as she wondered, _How much will I have to hide?_

 

Few hours after their arrival at the base, Rose woke up.

Rey and Finn immediately rushed to her bedside. Though the other woman was still in some pain, the medics had assured it wouldn’t take long for her to fully recover. Judging by the already vivid glow in Rose’s face, Rey believed them. In Finn’s eyes she’d seen an instant look of relief.

As they approached, Rose smiled at her with something like pure awe.

“You must be Rey—I’ve heard so many things about you. Incredible things.”

“And you must be Rose,” Rey replied.

“You know me?”

“Of course,” said Rey with a smile. “You’re a hero of the Resistance.”

She watched Rose’s face brighten. Finn remarked, “Oh, she is indeed. This little one saved my life.”

“Because _this_ little one needed someone to teach him you don’t have to sacrifice your life at the first opportunity,” Rose retorted, though there was an unmistakable warmth in her voice.

Someone in the room cleared their throat. Everyone immediately turned their attention toward the source of the sound: a tall woman, presumably in her mid-thirties, wearing a long light gown; standing at the entrance to the medical center. Something about the woman’s presence seemed to demand an immediate, silent respect. No one in the room spoke.

“Welcome to Liintaar base,” the woman said in a calm voice. “I hope you will find your accommodations here to be satisfactory, as you spend time recovering from the physical and mental wounds of past battles. Such a thing is often needed; in times like these most of all. I am Quah Ninlaa, former representative of Chandrila in the Republic Senate.”

At this, she offered a melancholy smile. “I will not burden you with any more information yet. Steps must be taken, new plans must be put into action; but first, you must rest in order to restore your energy. Tomorrow a meeting will take place, where the other leaders and myself will discuss our plans moving forward.”

With those words, she turned and left, leaving the people in the medical center to speculate.

Unsaid words hung in the air, the same thoughts, the same question in the minds of everyone present.

_What will happen now?_

It seemed they would have to wait at least till tomorrow to find out—to see how willing these people truly were to help, to find out if anyone among these unknown leading figures had managed to settle, to find some kind of unity in the chaos, to begin to create new plans.

 

Sleep did not come easily to Rey that night.

 

**

 

Kylo woke with a start and immediately sat up straight, his heart hammering in his chest.

The chamber was dark and cold. The stars blinked with their distant light beyond the viewport. He was alone, the only audible sound his own heartbeat…

And yet—

_A whisper, a glow; a presence he had come to know, to be aware of more than any other…_

The knowledge resonated within him, and his heart calmed even as it blazed. _She is here._

In one quick, fluid movement he had swung his legs down on the floor and risen to his feet. Acting from sheer instinct, with no further thought—

Only the moment after did he halt. This was when he saw her. Across the chamber, only meters away; lying with her legs curled up beneath her, strands of her dark hair falling across her face, her features illuminated by a faint glow of starlight. Her eyes were softly closed—she was asleep.

All thoughts stilled in his head, and at the same time he felt a peculiar sense of calm.

Of course, she wasn’t really here, he silently reminded himself. She was probably far away, in a starsystem in the opposite side of the galaxy. In this moment it didn’t matter.

The bond was not gone, not silenced. It was a beacon, flaring like an exploding star in the dark, and he felt it like a second heartbeat. Constant, bright, unfading.

Yet some things had changed—become clearer, stronger. He could sense the vague outlines of what must be her surroundings, mainly the bunk on which she was resting. He thought she must be in some kind of base, on the surface on a world rather than in space—he didn’t know where, and in this moment, he didn’t care either. It was a feeling—just as he’d _known_ somehow that she had been on a ship… not just a ship but _that_ ship, of all… And that the ramp had closed, parting them, as her presence faded.

_Only faded from view_ , he corrected himself.

He walked closer until he was standing right next to her. He kneeled down, looking at her soft features. Her breathing was quiet, even. The quiet in his own mind was calm.

Slowly, he reached out, caressing her cheek feather lightly. Two heartbeats. Then he rose and silently withdrew.

He’d only just turned and walked a few steps away when he sensed her presence change. Her breathing stopped for a moment before continuing, its steady rhythm changed. One heartbeat suddenly quickening, with emotion that wasn’t fear.

Softly, Rey said, “Ben?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Last Jedi is a masterpiece which left me a complete emotional mess; and well, here's some of the result. I hope you'll enjoy how this story progresses.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving some feedback, I'd be delighted to hear your thoughts. :)
> 
> And finally, wishing you all a very happy new year. <3


	3. Dissonance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Control_ seemed to be an illusion when he was with her.

Rey’s body felt heavy, her thoughts misty with sleep. However, from one heartbeat to the next, her senses became aware, her body alert. In a moment she was fully awake, and her mind was clear.

Her voice was soft when she called his name—

 

**

 

“Ben?”

He stiffened at first, then forced himself to be calm, composed. To turn around.

His eyes met her dark, brilliant gaze.

Through the silence, he sensed the emotions in her heart, contrasting with the apparent calm of her mind. A cacophony of them, the hurt of a sudden tide of sadness, grief, regret so powerful that she had to fight to stop tears from welling to her eyes—

A small gasp escaped his lips with the shock; the sudden, stunning intensity of those emotions, as if they were his own. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to repeat those words he’d told her once in the past— _I feel it too_. To hold her, touch her, feel the reality of her…

He stopped himself from finishing the thought. _Forced_ himself to stop longing for something which might never be.

How had everything changed so fast, so drastically?

If he could only _erase_ all the terrible things of the past, until only the peacefulness remained…

_If I could only change who I am_ , he thought bitterly.

_Too late…_

The shadow of anger was gone. Only the devastation remained.

“You left,” he said at last, his voice faint. He immediately cursed himself. Such terrible, uncheckable desperation in those two words. _Weak._ This was all there was left.

The knowledge that had haunted him, constantly; of failure and despair—maybe that was all he was truly capable of, after all.

Rey’s eyes instantly changed, a flare of passionate emotion igniting in them.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice,” she snapped. The hurt sparked the flame in her, gave her voice new strength.

_How she had looked when standing before Snoke, the power of her voice as she stood up for him, defended him,_ believed _in him in a way he’d never thought possible from any other being… how she’d looked at him when he finally acted; a choice which was hardly a choice at all—their fates had been settled from the moment they entered the throne room, perhaps long before…_

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “You _killed_ Snoke. I know you did it to save me, or us… you could have been _free_. And instead you chose _this_ —”

No. Apparently, she _didn’t_ understand, didn’t understand exactly what she was suggesting when she spoke of his _freedom_ —

“You say it as if it’s so simple,” he said, a suppressed snarl in his voice. “ _You_ , of all people, should know better.”

Her eyes were wide, hurt spilling across her features. Every emotion so bright and visible on her face.

“There is no such thing as true freedom,” he said softly. The closest he’d ever been, to feeling something which might _resemble_ it, was when he was with her… but this he didn’t say.

He’d never known true freedom.

“But why is it not simple?” she whispered. “The truth is what you make it. The chains binding you… are those created by yourself.”

_Yes, why is it not this simple?_ something inside him said. But the greater part of him still refused to listen—the part of his mind which still felt not like his own, where the darkness whispered with the voice of his master.

_You could have just followed her…_

Kylo ignored the other voice. This was something he could not bear right now.

She had risen and silently walked closer, the pale light of the stars beyond the viewport illuminating her; looking almost iridescent and so unbearably real. Both held the other’s gaze.

“For a brief time, I felt so sure,” Rey whispered, “that I’d discovered the one truth, that it would be simple to set things right. I’ve realized—”

There was only sorrow in her voice now—the emotion calm, superficial, but he knew it reached far deeper.

“—that maybe I still held on to a dream…” she said. “Something which could never become real.”

_You’re not alone._

_Neither are you._

The pain in his chest was purer, sharper than he’d have expected it to be. His throat constricted, and he tried to check himself, to remain in control… Except _control_ seemed to be an illusion when he was with her. Her presence tore the earth from beneath his feet, turned the universe and everything he thought he knew about it upside down. She was a storm; she was the only solid ground. She was the raging sea, and the rock he clung to not to get carried under.

“It is real,” he said. “It was always real.” _I know you felt it as much as I did._

She tensed. She knew, she sensed it, yet still she was doubting. Because of all that had happened…

_Because of what you did_ , the shadow whispered. _Because of what you said…_

_No._ He could not think like this, not now. However true some of it seemed.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“But then why?” she said. “Why, Ben? Why did this happen to us?”

This felt like a dream, he thought. Perhaps he would wake up in a moment, and realize it had never been real.

He knew she was referring to something far deeper, far greater than this present moment.

The words flowed from his lips, and he wasn’t sure it was truly himself speaking, then; “You could have joined me. We could have stayed, together.” _And you would never have to feel alone, abandoned, powerless… Neither of us would, ever again. This I would promise you…_

What promises could he truly make? He didn’t even trust himself.

Instinctively, he took a step closer.

Rey started, as if she’d heard his added thought. Her dark gaze was unflinching.

“The First Order is not right. It never can be.”

He wanted to say something as a retort, but no words came. Could he ever have a chance of proving her wrong? Maybe.

Did he _want_ to? His own double sidedness was starting to tear him apart.

The tightening in his chest grew more painful. Her eyes were still locked on his; her, who he somehow seemed to _know_ in a deeper way, strangely, intimately, inexplicably.

_Infinitely._

And still, she was an endless mystery to him.

The Force had driven them toward this moment—together, always colliding.

He reached up, resting his hand against her cheek. For a moment, they were both startled; it was like a stunning realization, the same brief, intoxicating feeling as when their hands had met. The shared images, the feelings, the strange new sensation. There was darkness and there was light, and the stars shone brighter in the sky, enveloping them in their infinite glow.

“It is real,” he repeated in a voice hardly more than a whisper.

Her eyes were bright like the stars. Her skin was smooth and soft beneath his touch. He didn’t want to think about anything else, all those other, painful things that didn’t matter—he only wanted to pull her closer, to slowly erase the distance between them—

The darkness of her expression made him halt. The moment shattered right after, when she spoke in a strained voice.

“Do you still want to kill me?” she asked quietly. “To _destroy_ me.”

He flinched and recoiled as though he’d been struck, her words with the force of a physical blow. The shame welled up in him once more, made a thousand times worse with the knowledge that he deserved it.

“I should not have said that,” he admitted. Her eyes widened, briefly—surprise, maybe. But there was no point in denying. They both knew _that_ anger had not been real. In this moment, he _wished_ none of it would matter. Even though he knew better—knew the terrible consequences of such mistakes. _Passed, like a fleeting shadow._

_Rey…_ he thought like a plea. _I don’t want you to be afraid. Please don’t be afraid._

“I’m not afraid,” she said softly. “Not of you. Ben, I could never—”

The darkness rose up in him, perhaps triggered by the inexplicable electric jolt her words had caused; or simply the vulnerability in her voice, like she was still _trying_ , still ready to even _trust_ him—

It didn’t make any sense—it _contrasted_ with the words he had just thought. Yet Kylo couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Maybe it would be so much easier… if you were afraid.”

She was silent for a moment, the slight change in her expression almost imperceptible.

“Maybe all of this would be so much easier,” she said, “if you stopped fearing _yourself_.”

He froze. It shouldn’t come as a shock, but it did.

Her gaze still unwavering, she parted her lips slightly as if to speak again—but no more words came. A moment passed—glowing, electric, their emotions a quiet, raging turmoil—before she faded and vanished. Before him was now only the viewport, showing stars and darkness, and silence.

Kylo let out a pained, frustrated sigh.

He raked a hand through his hair. He rested his forehead against the cool surface of transparisteel, and for a moment closed his eyes.

All those massive vessels assembled out there; a vast part of the navy, currently gathered in a remote part of the Primtara sector. Even now, if he opened his eyes, he could behold what was only a morsel of the proof of the First Order’s true capacity and might, which in itself might seem enough to lay waste to a galaxy. To hold it in an iron grip. Even now, some of the vast battle cruisers and their commanders were scattered across the galaxy, securing still more worlds and star systems, trade routes and entire sectors, expanding the power and reach of the Order.

It all seemed so insignificant. Cold and unreachable, like the light of the distant stars. _Nothing_ like the warm, present _blaze_ that was her.

Everything else paled in comparison.

All those weapons of destruction; technological terrors, machines of devastation. This was the place he had chosen. He deserved no better.

And already he hated it.

It was nothing. It was _emptiness_. In this quiet absence, his body felt hollow, an empty vessel.

_Let it all die._

 

**

 

Her skin still felt vibrant and tingling from his touch as she all but stormed into the _Millennium Falcon_. The ship stood in the hangar where they’d left it, which was now nearly empty of people.

Even as Rey tried to shake off _that_ memory, the image of him—for now, it would only distract her, she thought—she couldn’t help but notice row after row of light fighters of different models scattered about the large hangar. This was larger than she’d expected—than most of them had expected. How many people were at this base? Were they all newcomers? _Where_ did these people come from? If there were more bases like this, located on different worlds in the Outer Rim…

She shoved away that thought as well, saving it for later. All those speculations would get an answer eventually. For now, she needed to rid herself of all abundant thoughts, everything that might become a distraction…

The image of his face, his body, his eyes, flashed through her mind once more. It was like his own, smouldering gaze, locked on hers. The sound of his voice when he spoke to her through the bond—

Rey shook her head resolutely, trying to clear her mind as she strode down the corridor towards the cockpit of the _Falcon_ , passing a porg or two on her way.

She stopped when she reached the place where she’d stacked the old Jedi texts—she’d left them on the ship in order to keep them safe and hidden.

She opened the little compartment, letting her hand run over the ancient books, the smooth covers with their faded symbols. The books seemed to her a miracle, something almost too extraordinary to be true. It was pure instinct that had drawn her to them, which had driven her to bring them with her as she left the sacred island. Now they filled her with that same, luring feeling, like the texts themselves were whispering to her, drawing her closer.

Slowly, carefully, Rey opened one of the books, leafing through the pages and stopping when her eye caught something that immediately sparked her curiosity. The words of the Jedi Code on the very first page, written in faded High Galactic as well as in common aurebesh— _There is no emotion, there is peace …_

An image on another page immediately caused her to stop leafing. She recognized the image which had been inlaid in mosaic in the floor of the cave on Ahch-To—a circle, surrounding a figure of light and dark. Her thoughts stilled for a moment, wondering. The image clearly showed _balance_ , as the Force was meant to be in balance. This was what the Jedi believed in, after all. But what did it take for the Force to be in balance? These traditional Jedi ideas seemed to relish the light, banishing every thought of the dark—how could that be balance, when even the island in itself had been a manifestation of both?

She was beginning to understand what Luke must have discovered. But she wasn’t certain what to do with that knowledge.

She closed the book again with a sigh. So much knowledge, wisdom of millennia, written on those pages. Yet she wondered if it would be enough. If she would have enough to move on. After all, they were no more than books—words written on pages. And even pages could not replace the living.

 

Whoever really lived at this base, apart from those few surviving Resistance members from the _Falcon_ , they were waking up when she exited the freighter. Pilots in fly gear were milling about the hangar, preparing ships for takeoff, to whatever destinations. Through the hangar opening, she glimpsed cerulean sky and what looked like boreal forest.

Many people, however—among them most of those few whose faces Rey had managed to become familiar with—were headed toward somewhere deeper inside the base. The starkly lit corridors were filled with a stream of droids and beings alike—among them, she saw some that appeared very young.

Some of these corridors, she’d learned, were underground, like at the old D’Qar base. As many other bases and stations that were a leftover from the days of the Rebel Alliance, it was a mix of old chambers, hangars and passages from that time, and the new parts that continuously expanded it.

She heard the voices of Finn and Poe somewhere in the corridor ahead before she saw them, and sped up.

“She kissed you?” she heard Poe say. “She actually kissed you?”

“For the third kriffing time— _yes_ , she did. Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“I mean—we were sort of all dying at that time.”

“We nearly always are. That makes it even better.”

A smile spread on Rey’s face as she reached the two of them. Both immediately greeted her; Finn with a brief hug, Poe with a smile and a wink.

“What did I miss?” she said. “Who kissed you?”

“Can’t your Jedi senses figure that out for you?” Poe said. Those Jedi comments again. He’d pretty much been going on like that since Crait.

“Rose,” Finn said softly, after a moment. Rey’s smile widened. Her intuition hadn’t been completely misguided, after all.

“Yeah. Wow,” Poe said after a moment. Finn turned toward the pilot with an almost comically exasperated look on his face.

““Wow” _what_ now?”

“It’s just… buddy, I didn’t think you’d ever held a girl’s hand or anything.”

“I held Rey’s hand. Once.”

They were now entering a large room which resembled the bridge of a space cruiser. A vast holoprojector stood in the center, and around it was different stations with people clustered about.

Rey scoffed. “That hardly counts.”

“Nah, you surely weren’t happy about it. “I know how to run without you holding my hand!””

“It _was_ kind of ridiculous—we had TIE fighters shooting at us.”

“Well, what would I know?” Finn interjected. “You were just some random scavenger I picked up on Jakku.”

“You’re one to talk—you were just some random, lying stormtrooper,” she said, raising a brow.

“Point taken.”

She met his eyes, and asked in a softer voice, “How is Rose, by the way?”

“Much better. Healing fast, they say.” He smiled slightly. “She’s resting now, but she’s good. Probably just wondering where the hell we are and what’s gonna happen now.”

Rey frowned slightly, muttering, “Aren’t we all.”

The three of them took a seat one of the rows of benches surrounding the holoprojector. The available seats were filling up with people—closest to them sat the Abednedo pilot C’ai Threnalli, who called a greeting to Poe as they approached. The two of them immediately started chatting—after a moment, Rey broke in.

“Have any of you been told more about this place—the people here?”

“Not much,” C’ai said, watching her with glinting dark eyes. “A lot of those new leaders are apparently former senators of the Republic—some of those lucky ones who weren’t on Hosnian Prime when it happened.”

“And still loyal to the Republic,” Finn muttered.

“I talked to Kaydel earlier,” Poe said. “According to what she’s been told, a lot of the people at this base are newer recruits—probably ones who joined after Hosnian. But not all of them are Resistance fighters—refugees, too. People who were forced to leave their home planet when the First Order arrived and took control.”

That explained some of the ones Rey had noticed on her way; families, with children.

In that same moment, the woman who’d addressed them briefly the day before stepped forward to the holoprojector. Leia followed shortly after, standing next to the Chandrilan senator; hair elaborately braided, wearing a calm expression, a bright energy around her. Radiating from her. It was at the sight of Leia that Rey felt a sudden surge of calm—if the general was here, then these people must be to be trusted after all.

Still, she kept her mind clear, all senses alert; ready to detect even the slightest hint of wrongness, a disturbance.

Then the Chandrilan—Quah Ninlaa—began speaking, and everyone else fell silent.

“We have suffered great and recent losses. A vast part of our movement, of the Resistance, was lost during the battle of Crait against the First Order, and earlier during the evacuation of D’Qar. Those of you who stood with Leia Organa then, who participated in those battles and made it through alive, must now realize that you do not stand alone. From now on, we must strive to stand together, in order to make this movement grow.”

When her piercing gaze swept across the room, it was as if her eyes glinted with the same vivacity as the jewels around her neck. “We are all united by the same cause; the same hope. To see an end to the First Order. To see a new dawn for the Republic. There aren’t many of us left. But we must trust that our movement will grow as still more learn about our cause, and wish to act in face of the First Order’s cruelty. We will send out people, to recruit and expand our forces. We must act with more stealth and secrecy than ever before, to keep our forces and settlements out of the First Order’s sight. We will grow. We _will_ survive, with whatever we have.”

Some applauded. Rey didn’t recognize those people.

So this was the result of their grand meeting earlier? Not a word about the First Order and their plans—possibly to make up for the fact that these leaders were as much in the dark as everyone else in this room.

Not a word about the new Supreme Leader. Were they even aware? she wondered. Had the news surfaced yet?

The room immediately filled with voices, the words blending together as people’s conversations overlapped.

“So—what d’you think about this Ninlaa person?” Finn muttered.

“A bit smooth-talking in my opinion,” C’ai said. Poe was staring straight ahead with a distant, thoughtful expression.

“All those words about standing together and uniting against our enemy,” he said. “Yet, these might be some of the people who received our distress signal, and didn’t respond or arrive with re-enforcements.

“Look at all these people,” the pilot added, moving his gaze across the room. “All the ships in those hangars…”

Rey understood what he meant. She couldn’t say she hadn’t thought the same. Were all these people truly of the Resistance? Where did their loyalties lie?

They got up to leave. Leia’s voice called out, halting them before they reached the exit.

“Poe—can I have a word with you?”

The three of them walked to the place where she was standing at one of the stations. Leia greeted them all with a smile, then turned to Poe.

“We will need a leader, to assemble a strike team,” she said. “I have suggested you for the job. There may be several missions involved, of varying kind. I trust that you can carry the responsibility, Commander Dameron.”

The pilot bowed his head lightly. “It would be an honor, General, I—wait, did you just call me ‘Commander’?”

Leia raised her brow, a glint in her eyes. “I decided recent events make up for earlier mistakes and, should I say, lack of judgement. I believe in you, Poe.”

The general pointed a finger at him. “Now—don’t let me down, Commander.”

She inclined her head briefly in Rey’s direction, then turned and walked away, long robe billowing behind her. Poe looked utterly taken aback.

When Rey looked at Finn, her friend was smiling again.

 

It turned out, putting together a strike team didn’t prove to be much of a struggle. Finn immediately volunteered to follow his friend on the first, yet undefined mission. C’ai and some of the other pilots soon followed. The moment Rose heard of it, she wanted in—they planned to leave in a couple of days, as soon as she was fully healed.

Rey joined the team as well, to Finn’s great joy. Leia’s gaze had met hers, the other woman’s expression calm, knowing; and she had felt a strange, sudden tug in her heart. Getting off world would be a relief—the sense of doing something, achieving something, participating in the war in whatever manner their assignments would require—would be soothing, she sensed. Crucial, in more than one way. Already, she had felt the strange restlessness, a kind of frantic energy growing in her. She knew this was the right thing to do. But in that moment, she realized how much she would also miss the company of Leia Organa.

 

A couple of hours later, Rey went into the forest surrounding the base; walking until the world became silent around her but for the faint rustle of wind; until the canopy of the trees above her blocked out most of the light from the distant binary stars, creating the illusion of a soft twilight.

It was in the heart of that forest, in a small clearing between those towering trees whose existence she found almost unfathomable, that she sank to her knees on the soft ground and let the flood of memories overflow her.

All that had happened, tearing her life apart and putting it together anew in such new, shattering, exhilarating ways—only to be torn apart once again. At least this was how she felt it. The gaping, bleeding wound inside her, clawing her heart apart in the moments she felt most utterly alone. A truth revealed at last; a realization of such belonging as she had never thought—

A new hope. But that hope, that illusion, too, had shattered. At least for now.

_The belonging you seek is not behind you…_

**_You’re not alone._ **

All her life, her heart had been a whirlwind; her soul like a leaf trapped in the raging winds of the X’us’R’iia. All her life, she had sought to find her place, her _belonging_ , and then there had been another, another soul trapped in its own maelstrom; they had met and clashed, first in the words of Takodana—then in the cold devastation of Starkiller Base, then in visions, on Ahch-To; uniting.

_Could this really be?_ she had wondered. _Is this the time? Is this the one?_

She had learned to understand him. She had begun to _hope_ ; desperately, recklessly, as only a soul so starved would. They had both called out, and the other had answered. They had reached out—and met, impossibly, stunningly, across lightyears.

But that fierce hope had burned to ashes, scattered by the words he had spoken, the decision made by his still darkened heart. _It had not been enough._

Trapped, once more, on either side of the conflict; the balance pushed askew. The loneliness was an endless void inside her.

She knew he had vowed to destroy her—and though the words had been said in anger, it might very well end with that. Could she do the same, if circumstances forced her to?

The thought alone was like a blade piercing her chest.

Still, the treacherous longing was there.

_I cannot carry on like this_ , she thought. _I cannot do this alone… but who is left?_

A searing, burning feeling in her chest, tightening until she couldn’t _breathe_. A deep, racking sob broke its way up her throat. She wanted to black out the woods and the endless sky, make it all disappear, scream in agony until all surrounding her was darkness. _Alone._

Then, it was as though phantom hands gripped her, held her tightly, arms closing around her as if to keep her attached; to anchor her and keep her from drifting away.

Rey didn’t fight it. She didn’t try to resist it. She let herself fall into that phantom embrace, distant yet present—it kept her from shattering. His mind wrapped around hers, his presence entangling with her until she couldn’t tell them apart. Until it truly seemed they could forget everything—that nothing else needed to matter.

Amidst it all, a sudden new will, a new determination that she couldn’t describe igniting like a flame within her.

The bond and the Force within them glowed. And what came next, his sudden, unexpected promise—was it words, or truly just a feeling? —burned through her like fire, an echo resonating in her soul: _I'll stay. I will still be here. I promise you; by the universe and the Force itself. You will never be alone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely people, I apologize for the late update! A lot of things are happening in my life right now, but I will strive to update this story as often as I can. Endless gratitude to those reading along! <3
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving some feedback. :)


	4. Shatterpoints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sometimes we break so beautifully_
> 
> _And you know you’re not the only one_
> 
> _I breathe you in, so sweet and powerful_
> 
> _Like a wildfire burning up inside my lungs_
> 
> “Wildfire”, Syml

That night, visions came to Rey in flashes of shadow and brightness.

Images. Things from a past she knew; things she thought she ought to remember. And other things, too—of a past that wasn’t hers.

_There were voices inside her head._

Herself, screaming for someone who would never return—longing for something which had truly never existed.

_Whispers, shadows, with time merging into one—_

Her body shivered in the cold, her breaths coming in gasps. Her eyelids fluttered, her heart beating a frantic rhythm, but still the swath of those shadow dreams wouldn’t release her.

She saw a ship vanishing into the sky in a glimpse of bright light.

She saw living darkness open before her in a tunnel; a spiraling void, an infinite current.

She saw the green blade of a lightsaber igniting in the dark, its brightness cutting through the night, leaving everything but the blade itself shrouded in impenetrable shadow—

_His eyes, unable to leave the bright flare, the moment stretching into infinity as everything else stopped—a suffocating well of emotions; anger, hurt, betrayal, fear; stoking the fire of the dark inferno already raging in his heart…_

 

She awoke with a sudden jolt and a gasp, like breaking through the surface of dark waters.

Her body was trembling all over, her heart pounding, images still flashing through her mind. She remembered the feeling of that darkness in her head, and it frightened her.

It took her a long moment to convince herself of her reality; that her silent surroundings, the beating of her heart, were real. In this moment, the whirlwind of emotions felt just as real. Real, as phantom hands touching her, holding her in the dark.

The room was cool and dim—and eerily quiet. All the half-dozen other people here, people of the Resistance, were still asleep. Her senses told her it must be the early hour before dawn.

Rey closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Then she rose from the bed, and, already being mostly dressed, she put on her boots and grabbed her satchel from the bedtable before she went outside.

 

Words passed through her mind like pearls on a string as she walked in the mostly empty corridors of the base, instinctively heading toward the hangars and the glimpse of the outside world they offered.

_Ataru. Enlightenment. Silver sea. Whirlwind. Kar’taylir …_

To anyone else, the words, and what they described, might have seemed random and unconnected, but to Rey they created an intricate pattern. For _what_ , she wasn’t yet sure—but it was a convenient way to distract her thoughts.

She turned down another corridor, suddenly halting with a frown. The size of this facility continued to surprise her, and she felt fairly convinced she’d never set her foot in this part before. These corridors looked older than most of the base, and less frequently used—a relic from old days of the Rebellion. A feeling of alertness rose in her, her instincts advising her to proceed with caution.

As she inspected the walls surrounding her more closely, there was no doubt. These were weapons storages, camouflaged to look merely as panels in the wall to someone walking by without sparing it a second glance. There were blasters, bombs, heavy ammunition. This didn’t look like just any other weapons depository for a makeshift rebel base. Were these people planning some larger assault, a major counterattack? Was Leia—the Resistance she knew—part of this planning?

Rey found herself wondering why they would leave such a place completely unguarded for anyone to simply enter… unless someone was already here.

She got the answer to her speculations as she saw a flicker of movement down at the corridor’s end. The person had moved swiftly, but Rey caught the glimpse of a telltale gown before they rounded a corner. Quah Ninlaa. The Chandrilan senator. She didn’t think the other woman had noticed her, standing in the middle of the corridor.

She stood silent for a moment more, watching the place where the other had briefly appeared and disappeared, thoughts whirring in her head.

 

As according to the plans, the new strike team was assembled and ready to embark on their first mission three days after their arrival at Liintaar base.

They stood in the main hangar, shortly before departure. It was a cold, bright day, sunlight shining in through the hangar exit and reflecting off the hulls of the various vessels.

Rey stood a bit away from the rest, watching them. Finn. C’ai. Rose Tico, almost fully recovered, BB-8 hovering close by. A couple more X-wing pilots; sisters, both in their late twenties—their names were Laeya and Pyxas Iantilly, and that was all Rey knew of them so far. Also standing a bit away was Tekkan, a Chagrian male who was said to be an excellent marksman. Poe stood next to the transport they were presumably about to embark in, talking to and probably taking orders from Leia.

She shifted the weight of the satchel on her shoulder. Inside it was the two pieces of the lightsaber, among other objects she thought she might find need for. She was wearing a dark grey cloak over her usual, newly washed clothes. The blaster Han had given her was tucked down in her belt.

The familiar sound of her name spoken in Shyriiwook woke Rey from her thoughts. She smiled as she turned toward Chewbacca, standing at the hangar’s opposite end and gesturing for her to come closer. As she approached him, he held out a long, slim object—her old quarterstaff.

_“I took care of it for you,”_ he said. _“I thought you might find need for your old weapon—I believe I was right.”_

Rey smiled, overwhelmed and grateful. Looking at the Wookiee, emotions that she couldn’t find words for rose in her, most of it an inexplicable sadness. All she could say was, “Thank you,” but Chewie watched her as if he understood. He was quiet for a moment, then said, in a soft voice, _“Don’t blame yourself, little one. He was stubborn as a child, too.”_

Somehow, this was what finally caused her tears to fall. A simple sentence, a few words which somehow managed to say everything other words hadn’t been able to express.

He pulled her into a warm, comforting hug, and she wept silently, for all the things that had been lost that were no one’s fault and everyone’s fault; for all the things that could have been, and the things which might still be, in time.

They were preparing to leave. The ramp to the transport was lowered, and she saw Tekkan entering alone as the first. She withdrew and smiled at the Wookiee. “Thank you,” she said again. He gave a soft nod, acknowledging.

He walked over to stand with Leia, who greeted them all briefly before turning away and walking back into the main compound of the base. Rey watched the general as she left, a warm feeling in her chest, of gratitude and something else she couldn’t place.

She watched Poe embrace different familiar people of the Resistance, some of them pilots that he’d flown with on countless dangerous missions, exchanging brief words, like the final goodbyes before a battle. Whatever would happen, everything about the future seemed too uncertain for anything else.

The members of the new strike team boarded the transport one by one. A tall, willowy woman with ebony skin strode over to one of the pilot sisters, and Laeya pulled her girlfriend or wife into a passionate embrace as they kissed each other goodbye. Watching them, Rey felt another, different pang in her chest, a sudden deep longing—to belong; to love and be loved, truly, deeply, unfadingly.

She shook her head slowly. She should be satisfied. She should be content. She had people she cared for; and all of this.

She walked up the boarding ramp to the large transport, and continued down the corridor toward the ship’s main compartment and cockpit, passing Rose and Finn on her way, both of whom greeted her brightly.

She had this. It should be enough.

The group all boarded and settled in, the transport started to vibrate slightly as they took off and soared into the sky. It didn’t take long before they emerged from the planet’s atmosphere, and Rey felt the distinct tug in her center that meant they’d entered hyperspace—setting course toward their first mission, their first destination, leaving Liintaar and the base behind.

The ships interiors were dim and unremarkably grey—the small area in which only she and the Chagrian, Tekkan were now sitting only furnished with benches along the walls and a small holoprojector in the center. When she closed her eyes, the vague sounds and sensations of life aboard the transport were like a low, steady hum; calming in its quiet complexity.

She opened her eyes again, watching curiously as the other stowed away something that looked like a glinting iridescent box with paintings on it, instead producing a blaster from the satchel at his side that he began to clean. Rey reminded herself to ask Tekkan about the purpose of the box, sometime, when the appropriate moment occurred.

“Everything alright down there?” she heard Poe call from the direction of the cockpit.

“We’re all-clear,” Rose replied from the other end of the ship. “Hyperdrive, fuel cells, everything operating as it should. We might need to refuel at some point though.”

“I still don’t understand _why_ the Resistance won’t grant us more ships,” one of the sisters—Pyxas—said. Both now emerged into the same compartment that Rey was in, settling down in one of the seats and standing leaning nonchalantly against the doorway, respectively. “We are more than enough competent pilots. It would increase security on this mission significantly.”

“We come from Pamarthe, in the Outer Rim,” Laeya—the fiery-skinned sister sitting next to her—told Rey with a smile. “Many young ones on our world learn to pilot starfighters from an early age—it’s what we live for.”

Poe now entered the room as well. “I assume they don’t believe we’re gonna need a squadron of starfighters for this mission,” he said. “It should be calm enough, little cause for us to get into a fight. From what I’ve been told, it’s a small world with few settlements and few resources—”

“Now, now, Commander,” said purple-skinned Pyxas with a crooked smile. “"Little cause for us to get into a fight"—is this really the Poe Dameron we know and hear so much about?”

Poe raised his brow in a questioning expression as Finn snickered from the doorway, and Laeya’s laugh filled the compartment, its lovely sound carrying through the air.

 

**

 

_Two hands, touching; reaching across lightyears and time and space, through voids of endless darkness and fields of millions of stars._

 

**

 

The transport emerged from hyperspace in the Paucris system of the Outer Rim, and they beheld a small world of green and slate and earthy red; some of its settlements visible already from space, and some of its slow rupture and devastation, too. Rey felt a sinking sensation as she beheld the planet through the viewport, something dulling and hopeless mixing with her anticipation.

Its name was Paucris Minor, and it was orbited by two moons, one now visible from their current position; a bright blue orb rising in the sky above the planet.

The devastation became more remarkable as they landed on the planet’s surface.

The transport touched down on a field of barren grey, rocks and sparse vegetation scattered about, surrounded by ridges of cliffs. The sky was obscured by a dense layer of clouds. A narrow path snaked through the landscape, leading to a small town close by that went by the name Taelenaal. It was down this path they went—all of them except Tekkan and BB-8, who would stay behind and guard the ship—carrying with them the vast number of crates that had been stacked aboard the transport before departure, filled with food and medic packs and other necessities. They might have landed in the middle of the town itself, were it not for the fact that the different buildings stood tightly packed side by side, offering no proper amount of space for a ship to land.

Paucris Minor was a poor agricultural world, the limited access to supplies of which had been decreased even further by the First Order’s exploitation of its expanses of land. Due to overfertilization and excessive pollution, its surface had become barren and dry, allowing for few crops to grow. As few among the world’s inhabitants were pilots and capable of travelling off-world to gather supplies, the population was left to starve.

The Resistance’s allies had been going on supply runs, gathering more than what they would probably ever need themselves. All First Order troops had left the planet long ago, abandoning it in the wake of the ecological disaster they had caused. On this first mission, there would be no fighting, no intel gathering, no risking lives. They were simply here to deliver the supplies, and then they’d be on their way again.

Though, Rey thought as she watched people’s faces light up at the sight of the food, children shouting to each other as they ran up to and clustered about the people unpacking the contents of the crates; such things like these, little gestures with infinite meaning, that could feed people and save lives—this would always be just as important. Her heart clenched as she watched those children, their thin limbs and tattered clothes, their eyes aglow.

“So,” Poe said later, as they were heading back to the ship. “Suppose this was it. Don’t know how much else there is to do for these people.”

His facial expression was seemingly plain, his eyes inscrutable.

“There’s always more we can do,” Rose said softly. “We can keep on fighting, resisting. We can refuse to let more worlds suffer needlessly like this one.”

“And we will,” Rey said, meeting the other woman’s eyes with a smile.

 

Shortly after, they departed; leaving behind the world and people of Paucris Minor and heading toward their next destination, already preparing for their next mission.

 

**

 

_A glimpse of a future—images and figures taking a truer shape; solid and clear._

 

**

 

Only a dozen or so commanders were present in the council room of the _Enlightenment_ , and yet their voices were a still increasing, irritating buzz in Kylo’s mind. The High Command council had been assembled on his orders, and they were now busily discussing countless different plans for the First Order’s immediate future, as they had for what seemed like the last couple of hours.

They were seated around a table placed in the middle of the large room. At the center of the table was a projector, emitting holos and communiqués transmitted from captains and commanders of the parts of the fleet still scattered in different systems across the galaxy, continuously expanding the First Order’s territories as they had under Snoke’s rule… How much of this would need to change? Which things _ought_ to change, for some semblance of stability to ensue, something which was not merely a repetition of past mistakes? Thinking of it all; Snoke, the First Order, the ongoing war, the future of the galaxy… still he felt only the glaring emptiness in his center; the void too devastating to ponder for too long at a time. He needed another kind of guidance. He needed the Knights of Ren.

Admiral Windrider, who had been saying something about the academies on Arkanis and Ord Mantell, boomed on, “These academies need more resources in order to maintain the progress that they’ve had through the years, which will benefit not only the First Order’s military but also—”

“But where do you suggest these resources come from, Admiral?” Director Wu Han interjected with a dry tone in his voice.

“Our fleet and military may need all the financial resources they can get, if we are to ensure our continued progress in expanding the First Order’s territories,” Director Varena—a hawk-eyed woman with streaks of grey in her hair—cut in. “More so if current rumours speak truth and there are more allies of the so-called Resistance hiding in the Outer Rim, any attack or other offensive move by whom would prolong this… conflict.”

Some people around the table scoffed, but no one dared to fully voice a retort or argue against her words. Kylo walked slowly closer, turning away from his position at the viewport, and immediately felt every pair of eyes present in the room turn to him.

Calmly, words calculated, he said, “The claim that the cause of rebuilding and strengthening our academies would be a waste of the First Order’s resources is as foolish as it is naïve. The renovated academies are where we will train and educate our future officers and leaders. Without them, there can be no continued growth of the First Order’s fleet and military leadership. There can be no future.” He let his gaze sweep across the faces of those assembled, a small crowd so silent and composed, before it landed on the man who’d spoken first of the suggested motion. “Admiral Windrider. You will get your resources for the academies. You may go to Arkanis yourself to oversee transactions. I believe it will not interfere with your other duties in the near future.”

The thin, dark-haired male bowed his head in submission. “Thank you, Supreme Leader.”

Among the gazes of the high-ranking First Order officials, he sensed that of Rae Sloane, the grand admiral watching him with something like apprehension; some silent acknowledgement or assent, the change almost imperceptible.

During Imperial days, the Arkanis Academy had been run by the infamous Brendol Hux—whose overambitious son was now glaring daggers at him in a not-quite-subtle way, as he’d done for the last couple of hours. Really during most of the time they’d spent in the same room together since that incidence in the throne room… There had always been something else in the general’s stare, something uncommonly cold, remorseless. Inscrutable in the worst of ways, and whatever kind of loathing it was, it had evidently only increased. This man could prove to be a threat, he realized. Someone not to be underestimated, and especially not now—despite any lesser first impressions he might have had.

The academy on Arkanis was one of the great old academies from the days of the Empire, which had been recently renovated and rebuilt, to be used to train people to serve the First Order in the best and most efficient way. This was one of the things which, at this point, made Arkanis a key world to the First Order and their might as a government—it would probably remain like this, at least until more Core Worlds had fallen under First Order rule…

The thoughts were a dense fog clouding his mind. He needed to clear his head. He needed to focus.

“Supreme Leader, if you will allow,” an older officer— _kriff, what was his name again_ —piped up, “there is another topic which should be taken to immediate discussion on this council—”

_Indeed_ , he thought with an internal sigh.

“This transition,” another said carefully. “It must be decided how to properly mark its significance to the Order, and to the galaxy.”

“You must decide, Supreme Leader,” Rae Sloane said calmly, “if there should be an official event to mark the coronation.”

_Coronation_. Another thing which he had hardly taken into consideration. Another little thing of overwhelming significance. The death of a Leader, and the rise of a new - it would cause disturbances, some disruption, regardless of how the message was given. Each of those things like an impact; a small, numbing shock. It would mark something finite, something irrevocable.

But he would need to learn to accept it.

He silently cursed himself.

“I will consider the matter, and let the council know when I have decided,” Kylo said plainly.

Another blue hologram flickered to life at the center of the table; the image of an officer fading in and out of existence. The words she spoke were nearly inaudible, either as a result of a poor connection or a loud environment. Vice Admiral Zereq reached out to switch the projector off. “Apologies, Supreme Leader. A pre-recorded transmission from one of our new member worlds. It must have been redirected to the high command channel by mistake.”

“Hold on,” Kylo said suddenly, gesturing for him to let the hologram play out. The people around the table fell silent. The volume of the recording increased.

“When was this recorded?” he asked in a low voice, eyes fixed on the blue image.

“About a week ago, sir, just before the transition.” _Before Snoke died and the Supremacy fell. Before Skywalker ceased to be. Before everything changed._ “It is assumed from various transmissions received from the _Subjugator_ that they’ve had trouble with the world’s local government, along with them being cut off from the communications network due to solar storms in the system, interfering with radio signals and their subspace transceivers.”

Kylo remained silent, listening attentively. Something about the hologram and the message it contained caught his attention, as if it could hold some vaster significance.

_“This is Fleet Commander Qanera speaking from the new facility on Pantora,”_ said the officer shown in the hologram. _“We are requesting re-enforcements. Our forces arrived in the system three days ago as I speak. Since then we have faced continuous attacks by forces dispatched by the local government. Due to great casualties, the First Order must admit defeat unless re-enforcements are sent here shortly. As a former member world of the Republic, the government of Pantora demands the freedom to negotiate a treaty which will set unique rules and restrictions as to how the First Order may exploit—”_

The hologram flickered and faded as the connection was cut off. The silence in the room lingered, none of these people sure what to say or comment. Even he did not truly understand the reason why this message had caught his attention in particular; why his eyes had not wavered from the blue image.

This small thing might lead to something, or nothing. But no matter what it was, he wished to trust what his instincts told him—despite the fact that they’d so often betrayed him. He didn’t have much else left. A chance, an opportunity of something; a glimpse of something real and palpable in a universe filled with numbness.

Director Varena said, “It would be wise for us to send re-enforcements to Pantora as they request. It is a system we can hardly afford to lose.”

“The Pantorans will not be swayed by force,” Kylo said calmly, walking closer to the table. “So we must resolve to diplomacy. We cannot truly win over a system without first earning their cooperation through respect, in whatever manner we must meet that challenge. We must try to talk sense to the leaders of the systems we wish to incorporate.” _Some of these chances of cooperation may have already been wasted—I must try to change that._

He let his eyes move over the assembled officers once more, meeting every gaze after turn. “I will go to Pantora myself, and personally speak with their governor. We will show them what the First Order will truly mean in the future to come.”

In some faces, he saw surprise, even something resembling shock. This was not the kind of thing that Snoke as a Leader had ever done—missions always carried out by his faithful lieutenants in his place.

In Hux’s expression he saw disbelief bordering on rage. The general was clearly furious, and ready to burst with it.

“This is no rational decision, _Ren_ ,” the general spat. “The First Order is lacking ships, troops, weapons—we cannot waste more resources on foolish missions that will lead to nothing that can benefit us! The systems will bow to our might and sovereignty as a government—we will earn their respect through _fear_ , not some meaningless gesture of diplomacy—”

His words were cut off, swallowed by the sudden tightening of his trachea—the motion distinct, almost imperceptible, and he barely managed to maintain his composure.

Dark, calm rage clouded Kylo’s mind; of being so obviously and outrageously disrespected, of the other _daring_ to doubt and protest his decision. He kept it under control, allowing the silent wrath only to show in his eyes whilst keeping his voice and expression cold.

“You will never address me in such a manner again,” he said calmly. “You will never doubt or question the orders I give. You will speak only when spoken to, or when it is otherwise required. Am I making myself clear, General?”

“Yes, Supreme Leader. I apologize for my insolence.”

“Your insolence is forgiven, as of now.” It was a concealed lie, and they all knew it—there were things a Supreme Leader did not forgive, did not forget. This was how it must be.

Some of these people were easy to read; their faces displaying mortal emotions and coldness, satisfaction and loathing and dismay—most of their thoughts as easily read as words written on a page. Those other few, some of the older admirals and leaders, were more difficult; their facial expressions etched in stone, their eyes cold and blank. Yet still he felt their emotions beneath the surface, obscured and blurred. They all thought differently of him; their minds possessed by everything from suspicion to wonder and disbelief, a controlled kind of fear. Who was he, to them? A mystery? A leader? A child, playing the role of emperor?

The familiar darkness surged through him; the natural darkness which had become twisted over the years, to now only wanting to recognize the name Kylo Ren. _He would show them what he was. They would fear him. They would worship him. (this was not natural, this was not how he was supposed to be—)_ He welcomed it without concern, without even giving it a second thought—the moment after, when the tide retreated, the deep and suffocating regret immediately returned.

The sudden memory of his last confrontation with Luke Skywalker—the piercing words of his former master echoing within him. It still left him with a bitter taste, the inexplicable feeling of failure above all else. It was an emotion he couldn’t unravel.

The shadows still surrounded him and veiled his thoughts—those of shame and doubt and grief. There were sounds like whispers in his head, close and faraway; like echoes, carrying him away.

 

He strode down the dark corridors of the _Enlightenment_ , whispers of thoughts swarming in his head. Someone would need to remain in his place, to rule by his orders from these temporary headquarters of the First Order that was the massive dreadnought.

There were few people he could trust. Few people whose trust he thought he had any need for. Yet still, there were some bonds who outlived others.

He closed his eyes and sighed, briefly. Then he turned around abruptly and went to contact the Knights of Ren.

 

Later, the moment he was finally left alone, it all came back to him, overflowing his mind and senses and taking away that shattering semblance of control. He felt like a _fool_ for even trying. It didn’t matter that in those moments he might attempt to hide his conflicting emotions, to momentarily halt the tide of memories…

_They never left._

_She never left._

It would always return later; the shattering pain, the roar of the dark void inside him, the increasing of the constant voice in his mind that sounded like her—

_**Of course you care. You care so much that it’s tearing your very soul to pieces—every moment of your existence is agony. It is painful to care so much; to be so truly alive.** _

And part of him, the part of his soul surrounded by an iron cage, crying into the shadowed void; which had not yet succumbed to darkness, which still even now recognized the name Ben Solo, knew the truth of those words.

_He was Ben. He was Ren. He was neither and both, the two identities infinitely entangled, unable to conquer the other; unable to truly exist without the other._

 

**

 

_A bright glow, like a flaring beacon in the night; a hope._

 

**

 

_The sun shining mercilessly down on her small figure, the hard, cold voices of strangers surrounding her._

_Faces disappearing in a crowd—faces of people she imagined, barely remembered, always changing like the ripples of the sand in the wind._

_A flower sprouting from the sand of the desert, fragile looking but strong and persistent against the raging storms._

_The cold nights bringing dreams—a dream of a boy with ancient lonely eyes, extending his hand to her like a plea…_

 

Rey walked down the grey durasteel corridor of the transport _Iriyana_ , her stride weary, her mind buzzing with mission diagnostics and fragments of paragraphs from old texts, along with bits of memories that she could hardly find much meaning in herself. She wasn’t sure _what_ it had been—it was like the shadows of visions, a dream half forgotten—but it left a painful, tearing feeling in her chest.

It had been less than a standard day since they departed from Paucris Minor. Already they had stopped at a safe station to refuel, and also taken a detour to some obscure moon in a system at the edge of the Mid Rim where a new minor hideout was located, to pick up supplies for their next assignment. Finn and Rose were enjoying themselves immensely—she could hear their laughter from one of the ship’s other compartments. All Laeya wanted was a chance to fly in something resembling a starfighter. Pyxas craved a battle (and so did Poe, it seemed, although he made at least some effort to hide his restlessness). Ever since Crait, and all that had come before, he’d been keen on doing things _correctly_ —even when it obviously conflicted with what his deepest instincts told him. She predicted it would only be a matter of time before his more reckless nature got the better of him.

Their next assignments looked to be located on worlds with still heavy military occupation. Maybe they’d get their fair share of fighting there, Rey thought. She still wasn’t sure how the prospect of that made her feel.

Admittedly, the constant noise, talking and interfering of the ship’s other occupants occasionally made her mind slightly tired—and it wasn’t because she didn’t think of any of the other members of the group with fondness. Yet still, as much as she’d longed for the silence and starry darkness of space; now she only wished to be left alone. Those everchanging emotions confused and frustrated her.

She wanted to do something for her friends. She _wanted_ to help the Resistance.

But she needed quiet. She needed—

Rey halted abruptly. A strange fatigue weighed her down, yet she also found herself filled with a sudden, blazing energy.

Automatically, she headed toward the largest compartment of the transport—a spacious room, large enough for a training room, though for some reason rarely used.

She stood in the center of the room, her feet placed in a light-footed but solid stance, quarterstaff angled before her in a defensive position. She closed her eyes for a moment, her breathing slow and even.

She jolted into motion, the staff whirling in her hands— _bolt, slash, turn, strike_ —cutting down imaginary enemies surrounding her.

_Find balance._

A deep breath, energy and the Force flowing through her from her core to her fingertips, and she tried to let herself give in; follow that glow in her center and let it guide her—

She whirled, bringing the staff down in a graceful arc before standing still. She breathed out.

This was when she noticed the person standing in the doorway, watching her.

Rey turned around to face Laeya Iantilly. The other’s eyes were glowing, her beautiful Mikkian features lighting up in a small smile.

“You fight beautifully,” she said.

“I—thank you.”

There was a small pause. “I’m sorry if my sister’s behavior seems… cold, sometimes,” Laeya said. Rey looked up, surprised—she supposed Pyxas’s attitude had been cooler, more closed; her expression distant when their eyes met, during the very short time they’d known each other… but she had assumed it was simply a reservation, a wish to keep a certain distance until they knew each other better. She’d thought this was probably how _she_ must appear to others as well. Everyone had their reasons. For being here. For joining; for fighting.

“She means well. She doesn’t hold prejudice against people,” the pilot continued. “She is still grieving the loss of our home. The First Order invaded our world some standard months ago. They took our lands. Separated us from our family and friends… I’m lucky to still be with Veela. I don’t know how I would be able to continue… all this, without her. Or without my sister. Pyxas wished to join the fight immediately, to turn her anger and bitterness against the First Order into something useful. To make the galaxy a better place.”

Laeya smiled again, apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this.”

“Don’t apologize,” Rey said earnestly. She found she liked hearing the other woman speak—the pilot had a natural warm radiance about her. A calm glow.

Laeya’s eyes darted to the staff in her hands, then to the satchel containing the pieces of the lightsaber—though of course, the pilot couldn’t know that.

“They say you’re a Jedi,” she said softly, a silent fascination, awe, in her bright green eyes. “You’re Force sensitive. You found Luke Skywalker. You saved the last remaining Resistance fighters serving under General Organa, after the battle of Crait.”

“I am Force sensitive,” Rey said softly. “I… I did find Luke. But I don’t have enough training. I’m not a Jedi.” _Not yet._

Maybe she never truly could be. At least not the way everyone seemed to know, the legends they relied on. With no one to teach her—

_Maybe I’m the one who should be careful not to say too much._

The other woman was quiet for a moment before she replied, “It was a brave thing you did. There were many good people aboard that cruiser—and on D’Qar.”

“Many who died in the battles,” Rey said softly.

“And some who survived, because of you.” Laeya’s smile was sad. Once, Rey had thought those of the D’Qar base, the people of the Resistance that she had known for a brief time, were the only ones. A group of hundreds, to stand against a rising empire. Apparently, there were a lot more—political allies, new recruits, fighters and pilots stationed at other bases scattered across the Outer Rim.

_But will it be enough?_ she wondered, then, _Enough for what, exactly?_

What _could_ they do? What was their greater plan, their enemies’ plans? What would be her role to play?

After the other had gone, she stood for a moment, silently staring at some point on the durasteel wall without really looking, her mind faraway.

_How can I do this?_

_How will I move on?_

She shook her head, shoved away those thoughts, frustrated with herself. Kindling a new determination inside her, she positioned herself in an opening stance.

When her body surged into motion this time, it was different. She moved fast, surely; yet fluidly, like a dance—her own body felt strange, something new to be explored. Her focus, her very energy felt new, suddenly strengthened. Calm, yet intense—quiet, yet the dormant power in her roared, begging to be used.

She briefly remembered Luke’s lessons; his urgent voice telling her to resist the pull of darkness, his words about the nature of the Force and the Jedi…

_At the height of their power they allowed Darth Sidious to rise, create the Empire and wipe them out…_

He had been right about many things. To other things completely blind. Even if she knew there was no _one_ person to blame… _Except Snoke. Snoke is only truly guilty one. He started all this—_

But Snoke was dead. Yet the terror, the evil persisted.

_So maybe it was something far more fundamental, something greater than any of them could fathom…_

She pushed away the increasing hopelessness and frustration, focusing instead on the power; that force inside her which had already guided her so much, led her toward hope and darkness, which she still far from understood herself. She had made crucial mistakes, too. Now, she had no one but herself to rely on.

As she whirled the staff around her, moving through a hundred different positions and stances, parries and strikes; it was as though she saw it all through a haze of soft shadows and flaring lights. A steady, humming sound suddenly increased, like that of a lightsaber…

Her pulse should have quickened, her heartbeat like thunder, her muscles straining from the effort and the fatigue in her limbs. Instead she felt only that strange calm. Renewed. Focused. Energized.

Another sound cutting through the near-silence; the familiar crackle of a fiery blade—the sound was like a strange echo, close and faraway at the same time.

A flashing vision, saturated with emotion and the colour of blades; blood falling upon snow glowing blue in the dim light—changing, suddenly, to the sound of a fierce wind; an ocean’s waves crashing against a shore.

_Two souls, merging—_

Two heartbeats. Two bodies. Two minds.

And then they were one—yet, still, apart. A universe between them. A single breath. Moving together like one in a fierce, elegant dance.

She sensed the strength and feel of _his_ body as if it were her own, as he— _they_ —moved through different positions, effortlessly gliding from one to the next. She wasn’t sure _who_ controlled the movements; one of them, or both—a strange, ferocious force, a determination that didn’t feel like hers. Untiring. Unwavering.

Or was it her? She didn’t feel certain anymore.

“You’ve been studying, I see.”

The words sounded in her mind—she couldn’t exactly _see_ him standing before her, as usually, yet still it felt as though he was standing next to her, speaking the words softly.

“Trying to discover your favored fighting style? Your preferred form?”

Rey felt as if she was holding her breath—her body was light, moving as if by its own accord, though her heart was finally beating an ardent rhythm that fit the blur of emotions going through her.

“What will it be, I wonder?” he drawled. “Surely not one such as Soresu—for that you have always been too fiery. Too aggressive. Fighting makes you feel real, alive… it always has. It gives you strength. Enables you to speak things you never could with words… I wonder, what did Skywalker think of this?”

She heard bitterness in his voice at the last words, along with some other feeling she couldn’t place.

_What did he think of yours, I wonder?_

“I got it from you,” she breathed—fighting to maintain her focus, her balance. Something inside her flared up, and a sudden gust of thoughts and emotions flowed through her—his emotions. The feeling passed like a shadow, leaving her stunned and puzzled. At the same time, it was as though she realized, truly, for the first time what was happening—their minds somehow linked through the bond, sensing each other so very brightly and _presently_. Her thoughts were an inscrutable turmoil, yet what she felt was something very different from fear.

She thought of the words she’d just spoken; what he must surely already _know_. Skills, abilities that Rey had received—or taken—from him unconsciously because of the bond. Not just in terms of fighting and style—other skills, too. Like the ability to probe into someone’s mind.

It had taken her a while to realize—to fully admit the truth to herself.

What other abilities had she taken from him; been able to take from him because of the bond?

Confusion, then understanding flickered across his face. She knew—she _saw_ somehow clearly the look in his eyes, yet she suspected that if she opened her eyes there might be nothing, no figure standing before her. She kept her eyes closed.

She sensed it as he did a quick analysis, of their fight in the snowy forest, the fight in the throne room—flitting through images, memories they shared… She had attempted to maintain an invisible barrier, a shield around her mind, almost by instinct. Yet even now she couldn’t help but wonder if it was futile. How much of this already existed in her mind, linked to his by the Force? Even now, that same Force, or something else entirely—or both—whispered to her amid the intensity and fervor, telling her to let go, give in.

“You’re right,” he said softly.

She whirled around, swinging the staff in an elegant arc. He whirled with her. She instinctively followed his movements, and he hers—they were lightyears apart, but as every other time the Force had initiated the bond between them, the physical distance was erased, made insignificant. She struck. He parried. _Like a dance._

A stronger glow, a fire ignited in her, a feeling like what she had felt only days before, in the deepest part of the forest. The words she’d heard then, spoken to her mind by another—but no, she couldn’t think of that now, either. It might as well have been imagined. There was nothing she could do about it now regardless.

_You are still quick to lose control_ , he commented with contrasting calm. _You become reckless. Unbalanced._

Despite herself, she felt indignation rise in her.

_Don’t you think that’s hypocritical, coming from you?_

Instinctively, she picked out an image of him, shoving away one of Snoke’s guards brutishly with his hands. Surely no forms of lightsaber combat included this technique in their official descriptions—

A soft sound escaped his lips—it sounded almost like a laugh. Surprise, maybe, or something else.

_Point taken, tracinya._

_My fighting may sometimes be unusually brutish from a Jedi perspective._

_And yours, too—you spark. You burn._

A whisper of thoughts reached her— _so much power, so much potential, we could be infinite_ —clearly not consciously shared. Rey felt a painful tug in her heart, but she forced herself to shove that feeling away. She didn’t know her way. She wasn’t sure how to find it, but there was nothing she could do to change the way things had gone.

She could not break. Not now.

A brief, featherlight touch, one consciousness to another.

_You still need a teacher_ , were the last words echoing in her mind as his presence faded. And she was left, alone, finally at a rest in the center of the empty room of the transport. Damn him and his inscrutable behavior; his states of mind conflicting, his moods everchanging… The thought and accompanying frustration materialized before she could prevent it.

Rey opened her eyes.

Her body still felt light, every one of her senses alert. That strange, raw energy still coursing through her.

Her thoughts drifted to a word she had stumbled upon recently—a shatterpoint; a weakness or fracture, somewhere even the seemingly invincible could be broken. Or merely a small crack appearing, something new glowing through; something hidden, suddenly revealed.

Something lost, suddenly found.

Her eyes fell on the satchel, containing the pieces of the broken lightsaber. She took out the pieces, watching their jagged edges, the dim sheen of the fractured crystal within. Something broken to be mended; to be remade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what is there to say, except welcome aboard this _Resurgent_ -class Star Destroyer of pain and angst, with an occasional dash of Organa-Solo snark to brighten the mood (or maybe just make it more tragic and sad...)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for your continued support, it means the world <3


	5. Whirlwind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, again, for the long break. I hope you'll enjoy this next installment. Thank you so much for the kudos and the wonderful comments! You're all lovely <3

Returning to the currently more inhabited area of the _Iriyana_ , Rey proceeded toward the cockpit, walking in light strides; her mood—surprisingly—brighter than it had been for a while, despite everything. The pieces of the lightsaber—the potential of the Jedi weapon—brought her a renewed feeling of calm, despite the memories they held.

No good would come out of lingering at thoughts of darker, less fortunate things. She would find a way to deal with it all—at least, wait until she had the necessary knowledge and preparation to meet it. Whatever her true challenges would prove to be in this rising chaos.

_Then let’s hope you_ will _have time to prepare yourself for what will come_ , a dry voice spoke in the back of her mind. Right now, Rey couldn’t determine whether it sounded more like Luke’s or Maz Kanata’s.

_That you both will._

She winced. Those were complications she could take into consideration later along the way, surely. And she definitely didn’t want to think too much of the Jedi master—right now, the memories would only darken her mind.

_The last thing I saw was the eyes of a frightened boy…_

Only Rose was already present in the small enclosed space that was the cockpit of the customized transport granted them by the Resistance. The petite woman looked up at her with a smile from her chair at the main viewport.

“We should be getting close now,” she said.

“What’s the destination again?” Rey asked.

Rose glanced down at the screens blinking before her. “It’s called Maridun. A small world in the Rolion sector. Don’t know much about it except its main population used to be very opposed to any acts of war and violence. More have settled there in the years since then, though—their philosophies may have changed. No matter what, we can’t know for sure if it’ll work to our advantage—or the very opposite.”

“Does the First Order have military presence there?” Rey wondered if any of those small things would have changed drastically since Snoke’s death—probably they would only find out once they could behold the effects of it throughout the galaxy with their own eyes.

“Well, they _did_. They were presumed to have moved out months ago. Leaving it just another desolate world like Paucris Minor. Latest intel from the main base tells us though that lingering military activity has been observed on the surface. We don’t know what their goal is yet—if they’re hoping to gain more from the world’s resources. It’s not a large population, but many rumours and stories revolve around them.”

“And we’re to help them fight back,” Rey said, not really a question. “Help the people gain back their land.”

“Blow up the Order’s facilities, if they have any. Cause enough trouble to, if we’re lucky, convince their enforcers to move away.”

“If the people will let us,” Rey said, raising a brow. “It seems like there could be a chance of them loathing us as much as they would any other intruders with weapons; friendly or not.”

“Well, we have to give it a try. That’s the least we can do for any world at this time.” Rose smiled half-heartedly. “The First Order won’t know what hit them.”

Neither woman said what they were both thinking—that what little difference they _could_ make seemed to decrease by the day. And it was just beginning.

In the silent moment afterward, Rey watched as Rose absently touched the necklace she wore—an ornate pendant shaped as a crescent moon, made from a metallic material that glinted in the faint starlight.

“You had a sister, didn’t you?” Rey said softly.

“Her name was Paige,” Rose said, after a pause. “She was a gunner. She was the only family I had left.”

Rey felt a sting in her chest. So many people with such stories. So many families which had been torn apart; so much pain caused by the First Order.

_But is there anything about the First Order that might be worth changing, instead of simply destroying?_ The foreign thought came to her unexpectedly, and she instantly shoved it away, stricken. Where had _that_ come from? The First Order’s ways were wrong, in the most basic sense. They took without giving anything in return, with no thought of the devastation they caused. There was nothing worth saving.

Most importantly, they would never be satisfied—always would they want more power, more control, not resting until a galaxy was laid to waste.

“Finn told me about your family,” Rose said. “That they left you.”

There was a sympathetic glow in her eyes.

Old instincts immediately flared to life, Rey’s mind already forming a response. _They didn’t leave me. They left the planet because they were forced to. They’ll come back for me…_

It took her some measure of bitter self-control to keep the words from spilling from her lips. It would take her long to convince her mind fully of the harsh truth; to tear down the defense built by her deepest instincts of survival. They would not come back. _All an illusion._

“He was going to leave for you, you know,” Rose said, watching her with a steady gaze. “He was willing to give up everything to make sure you were safe.”

The thought filled Rey with instant warmth and gratitude—it had not been the first time he’d been willing to risk his life to save her. She knew instinctively that she would do the same for him.

Rose continued, “Sometimes, family can be something you choose for yourself. The people you choose to surround yourself with. The people you’d give your life for. Being with the Resistance taught me this. Sometimes, that can be the most important thing of all.”

_People you’d give your life for._ She would have done the same thing for Finn.

The other woman had wise, warm eyes. When Rose smiled at her, Rey returned it.

 

**

 

_Leia Organa was sitting at her desk in her senatorial office on Hosnian Prime, the warm light of an afternoon sun shining in through the tall windows. She was rifling through different notations and messages on her data pad from the day, estimating the hours it would take her to get through them all. Also, prepare for tomorrow’s meeting with the representatives from Chandrila and the Gatalentan ambassador. She sighed softly. Perhaps some of it could wait till morning._

_She looked up as the door to the office slid aside, and a boy with a mane of tousled black hair ran up to her._

_“Ben!” she exclaimed. “Haven’t I told you to stay in the other room with Threepio while I’m working?”_

_The deep hazel eyes of her five-year-old son looked up at her. Leia could tell he’d been crying, and her heart filled with sudden sadness. She sighed again, and carefully pulled him into a hug. “What’s the matter?”_

_“When will Dad be home?”_

_“I don’t know, Ben. He can’t be sure how long this trip he had to take will last. He’s promised to contact us as soon as he knows.”_

_He pressed himself closer, his small hands clinging on to her as if afraid she might suddenly disappear._

_“I don’t like it here,” he whispered. “I want to go home.”_

_“Soon, we’ll go home. As soon as I don’t have to work as much.” She paused, then continued, calmly, “It’s a difficult time right now—for all of us. But it will be better.”_

_“Promise?”_

_“I promise.”_

_She pulled back slightly, looking at Ben; seeing the features he’d inherited from Han and herself. And then there was that hair, growing wildly in every odd direction. She smiled as a sudden memory rose; Ben with flakes of snow in his hair, his small body shaking with laughter. The smile faded as she watched his face now, the grave expression, the dark circles beneath each eye._

_“Having trouble sleeping again?”_

_He hesitated before nodding slowly._

_“Nightmares,” he whispered._

_“You know they’re just dreams, Ben. They can’t hurt you.” How deeply she hoped she was right. She tried to push away the growing worry, the dark thoughts that clouded her mind every so often, despite her attempts to let it go. Most of all, to keep it from showing on her face, in the shadows of her expression._

_He was silent for a moment, looking out at the brightly glowing sky and the city beyond the glass panes, glinting in the warm light._

_“Dad says I’m too old to cry,” he said suddenly. “He says big boys don’t cry.”_

_“Well, your dad can be an idiot sometimes. Don’t take everything he says too seriously.”_

_Leia smiled softly again, stroking back her son’s hair._

_“It’s going to be alright,” she promised him. “We’ll all be together again soon. Everything will be fine.”_ It has to be.

_The graveness didn’t leave his face. His eyes looked too deep and sad for a child his age._

_“I want it to stop. I want to go home.”_

 

_You’re not alone. It will be alright._

 

**

 

Leia Organa was standing hunched over a table, the screens before her showing numbers representing mission diagnostics, ships, weapons and people—and one large interactive holo map, filled with a crisscrossing pattern of blurry lines and glowing dots of varying size. The command room of the Resistance base was empty but for herself. She sensed the lives and energy of beings close by, scattered throughout surrounding corridors and rooms, felt their existence through the Force like a low hum; a soft, harmonious tune.

The images flashed by before her eyes, blurring together. Her mind was filled with thoughts of everything from Rey, to Luke’s last words, to her son… They finally landed on Amilyn Holdo. The woman she’d known since she was a girl of sixteen, desperate to help the Rebellion, to prove herself… Amilyn had been just one person in the long line of people who had sacrificed their lives for the cause.

Thinking of her friend brought a smile to Leia’s face, even as the loss felt like a constantly aching hole in her center. She remembered something Amilyn had once told her:

_“Everything is written in the stars …”_

_Maybe that has always been true_ , Leia thought now. Though often, as now, she thought maybe she just didn’t understand what the stars—or the Force—wished to tell her. Sometimes it didn’t feel like much of a help at all. On the other hand, it had quite recently saved her life. And it had enabled her to sense Luke.

The hollow ache in her chest deepened. She wondered if the losses eventually would become too much to bear.

Leia was interrupted in her thoughts as one presence diverged itself from the softly glowing mass; one person approaching her. She looked up as Quah Ninlaa, the Chandrilan senator, entered.

“General Organa,” the senator greeted calmly.

“Senator Ninlaa—this is unexpected. I assumed you would be travelling off-world to maintain contact with the potential allies your people recently sought out. What do I owe the honor of this visit?”

“Ah, General,” Ninlaa said promptly, fidgeting—probably unconsciously—with the gem-studded hem of her gown, “we may as well spare ourselves empty courtesies. I regret that it would come to this in the first place, but the way matters are now, efficiency might be our only advantage.”

“Very well. What is the matter you wish to discuss?”

The other woman watched her silently for a moment, the table and the blue glowing projected images between them.

“The Resistance,” she said finally. “And the future of our movement. The First Order’s power continues to grow and expand. All intel we’ve been able to gather points to the inevitable fact that the Order will have claimed control of all major sectors and trade routes before long. It is a matter of short time before they can proclaim themselves, truly, an empire, as they always desired. The fighters know this. The people know this, and they are afraid. We must grow, too, and act with immediate effect, if we are to have any chance of fulfilling our purpose.” She paused, then continued, entreatingly, “The purpose for which you created the Resistance years ago… when few among us were willing to even listen to words of the threat you described.”

Leia couldn’t tell if it was real, deepfelt remorse behind those words. It had continued to be difficult with this person in particular, whom she had only known for a short time—even with her usually good instinct for sensing a person’s true nature, or agenda.

She knew the other woman’s words were true—she saw evidence of the situation across the galaxy with every encrypted communiqué and message she received, with every line shifting and reshaping on the holo map. And those were just the glimpses of a larger truth.

It had been like this with many of the new Resistance leaders. Stepping in and joining the movement the moment the First Order had demonstrated their true power and intentions—a jolting shock, she thought drily, for many of those. Those who were still alive, that is. She knew Ackbar had trusted those former senators; he must have somehow seen proof of their conviction, their devotion to the cause, to trust them enough to let them become part of their expanded leadership. Now, she found herself wishing she had been part of that special case of recruitments. More than that; she wished Ackbar, and the rest of the leadership from D’Qar, were still alive.

She knew that a lot of those bases, the small, scattered groups of new Resistance fighters, would have been able to, and would gladly have, come to their aid during the battle of Crait. Some hadn’t received the distress call. Some had been too far away, unable to arrive in time. Some were yet too new and unorganized, had not had the people, nor the ships and weapons necessary to provide re-enforcements.

These were people she knew. People she trusted—at least those she’d had the chance to get to properly know. The movement was growing faster than ever. She supposed it should give her hope.

Yet something about the newer leaders—Quah Ninlaa among them; the young Chandrilan senator one she’d never gotten to know well during her time in the Senate—made Leia wish to remain hyperaware, keep her senses and instincts alert. Their new influence might lead the Resistance to progress. But that did not mean she would blindly trust them—not that it would have been the case with any politician, friendly or not.

“I started the Resistance with the purpose of saving the Republic from its corruption and rupture,” she said, voice powerful and calm. “To do as much while still preventing a new galaxywide war as the ones of the past. War may have become inevitable now—I do not wish to create any illusions to the contrary, as I don’t believe denying the truth of the situation is going to improve it. Yet, we are a movement created to restore peace. And we will do that with whatever means we must. We will do it to inspire the people of the galaxy to do the same—to seize what may be our last chance of peace, whilst ensuring that as many lives as possible are spared.”

There was a calm strength behind her words, her gaze not wavering from Ninlaa’s for a second. The senator’s face was a mask of concealed emotion, utterly inscrutable.

“Of course,” she replied in a plain voice. “Saving the lives of as many people as possible must be an ultimate priority. It is a crucial way of showing the people of the galaxy that we are better than the First Order. That we fight for them, and their freedom.”

Ninlaa paused for a moment before continuing, “Nevertheless, the people must also know what they go into—what the stakes are, and what the cost must be. For there _will_ be a cost. War, at this point, is inevitable now that the Order has shown themselves for what they really are and what they wish to achieve. Now, what the Resistance can do is make sure something always exists to oppose them, to rival them in resolve, if not in military might. Something standing between the First Order and ultimate domination of the galaxy. They will always underestimate our strength. This will, at least, remain our advantage.”

_Not all of them will underestimate us_ , Leia thought.

She couldn’t help but frown at the other’s words. But hadn’t she said much of if herself? At this point, war _did_ seem inevitable, however devastating those thoughts were. Ninlaa was right. They were the only ones left to oppose the First Order’s rule. The only alternative to fighting might be surrender. _And that was never an option._

“Rumours have it that the Force-sensitive girl was involved—whichever way it would seem possible—in the death of Snoke,” Ninlaa said carefully after a long pause, again interrupting Leia’s quiet speculations. “They say that there is now a new Supreme Leader.”

Leia knew the truth—or partial truth—of those words. It probably wouldn’t be long before the knowledge would have spread throughout the galaxy. Yet something about it spoke to her, that this couldn’t be the whole truth. The knowledge had come as a quiet kind of shock, jarring and devastating, yet… unsatisfying. Something was missing.

Rey had been quiet about the matter, and Leia had not wished to prod or in any way coerce her to speak—she figured the young woman would talk when she was ready. Maybe the whole truth would never be officially known. Maybe the true meaning of it all would be revealed in time.

“General—we must decide how to act from this new information,” Ninlaa said. “If these rumours speak truth, in any case, relations within the First Order leadership will at this point be brittle; strained at the very least.”

“What do you propose, Senator?” Leia asked again, keeping her voice calm. She’d found this was the best way to gain another leader’s trust—to make them believe they had the final say; to make them know their opinion was necessary and valued as such.

“Something which will send a message to everyone in the galaxy. Maybe even cause what stability remains in the Order to crumble.” Ninlaa held her gaze for a long moment. “An assassination, for instance, of _one_ of their leaders, could send such a message.”

_When we do not have the means of force, we must use stealth._

A sudden jolt of grief surged through Leia. She kept her hopelessness to herself.

_Nothing is impossible_ , an old voice whispered in her mind. But, oh, this was so much different. Even as her common sense told her it didn’t have to have anything to do with _him_ , that no matter what, an attempt of such would be practically impossible anyway…

Despite everything, part of her did not want to give up hope.

_Han…_

_Luke._

_How I wish you were still here._

But thinking such a thing to be the solution was an illusion in itself. Even the death of Sheev Palpatine had not stopped the Empire. Yet, still, Leia’s mind churned, weighing the risks with the possible impacts created by such ideas. If a powerful person such as Armitage Hux might be eliminated… Would it change anything at all? Would the Resistance stoop so low?

_The First Order annihilated the Hosnian system_ , she sternly reminded herself.

“Even if such a thing could possibly be done,” she said softly, “it wouldn’t end this war. Even if our people managed to assassinate members of the High Command council, the ideas and power of the First Order would live on. They’d find replacements. New people to control their fleet and military and enforce control. We’ve seen the proof of this.”

“And what of the new Supreme Leader himself?” the senator asked. “If we could find a way to exploit the weaknesses, the complications which will inevitably arise with the transition from one Leader to a new one—I cannot imagine this is something that will be taken lightly by anyone.”

The other woman’s words became incomprehensible noise in Leia’s ears as thoughts and speculations took over once more.

What could they do to bring an end to the war?

What could _she_ do?

And would the Force guide her, still; as Luke would have always insisted it did?

_Everything is written in the stars._

Leia thought of a certain young Force-sensitive woman, who might very well be hope; what they might need to stop this conflict. She hoped Rey was fine, wherever she was in the galaxy.

A flicker of movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. She turned toward the map showing the whole galaxy, watching the way dark areas were spreading on its expanse, faster than ever.

“Whatever our fighters must do to ensure our survival,” she began, “they must act quickly. I’m afraid—” Leia paused as one of the accentuated lines in the map shifted, broke apart, before reshaping. She watched with a sinking feeling in her chest. “… That we are running out of time.”

 

**

 

The _Iriyana_ was going down in a blast of lightning and thunder and screaming metal, fighting against the strain of the elements and the shifting atmospheric pressure. The world outside was transformed to an impenetrable mass of black clouds and the only vaguely softened cacophony of the raging storm. It had caught the ship in its wrath the moment they entered the atmosphere of Maridun; the surface of which Rey had so far only managed to glimpse once through the clouds. That had been seventeen minutes ago. She’d counted the time off in her head, whilst at the same time fighting, with Poe’s assistance, to regain some sense of control of the ship—trying to steer toward a quieter part of the sky, away from the roiling turmoil of the storm. Except the weather had rendered steering and navigating practically impossible at this point. The only senses she could rely on, truly, were those of the Force.

It was pointless, anyway. She had a strong feeling they were being careened straight down toward the surface.

This had _not_ been part of their planning.

Another invisible impact shook the transport. She heard Finn curse somewhere down the ship’s main corridor.

“It’s the turbulence,” Rose shouted from somewhere close by. “The lightning current is increasing it.”

Rey blew out a frustrated breath. All she saw in her vision was the dark, spiraling vortex of the storm clouds beyond the viewport, surrounding them. Between intervals of a few heartbeats, flashes of eerily fluorescent lightning illuminated the sky.

“By the holy Maker,” Poe exclaimed breathlessly as another dark wall of clouds rose before them. He was sitting tensely in the pilot’s chair, sweat beading on his forehead. Even Poe Dameron, best pilot in the Resistance, was at a loss in a situation like this. The customized transport was simply too ill-equipped to handle such unexpected situations, the heart of the storm too powerful. “Feels like we’re never getting out of this.”

Rey’s instincts told her they might very well be out before long—possibly in a jumble of debris somewhere on the planet’s surface. She didn’t tell him this, though.

If only there was a way of calculating the force of the impact when they would hit… The storm rendered any attempt of controlling their speed futile.

She could hear the duralloy of the _Iriyana_ ’s hull groaning. Had the situation, and their position, been any different, she might have found pleasure in observing the fierce, unrelenting weather; the way it ruthlessly engulfed in its wrath anything daring enough to venture into its shadow.

Another wild tremor went through the vessel. BB-8 was blathering some warning in binary that she couldn’t catch.

Suddenly, she thought she glimpsed something bright beyond the clouds—a landscape of grass plains. The planet’s surface.

“We’re going down,” she called to the entire team aboard the transport. “Strap yourselves in.” _Better brace for the impact._ She heard the words being repeated behind her.

The moment after, the transport broke through the layer of clouds.

“Steady, now,” Poe murmured, mostly to himself.

A flash of a landscape—usually colourful, perhaps, though now dimmed by the storm clouds obscuring the sky. A large area; the dark, rippled surface of—a lake, she realized. A brief moment of panic seized her as she imagined them crashing in the middle of the vast lake, sinking beneath the surface, the weight of the hull carrying them toward the bottom. Then the _Iriyana_ streaked past the stretch of dark water, continuing its course down toward the plains bordering the lake. In the distance Rey saw what looked like thickets of trees. All she could think of now was that it felt like they were approaching way too fast. The fierce winds hurtled them toward the plains, and as of now it was too close, too late to attempt to control the plummet. All they could do was prepare for the impact. She counted off twenty-three seconds more.

Then the transport hit the surface, and for a while all she sensed was the tremor and shrieking of the metal, as if the entire hull was going to be torn open by the earth.

After what felt like minutes, the _Iriyana_ shuddered and lay still.

“Are we alive?” Pyxas exclaimed.

“This is not the idea I had of the afterlife,” she heard C’ai mutter.

There was the sound of brief commotion. She read on the panels before her that the major exit was now open.

“I read no considerable damage,” Tekkan called in a low voice after a pause. “But we’d better exit. We don’t know what kind of hit it may have taken.”

This broke Rey from her trance. She freed herself from the chair and left the cockpit, ascertaining that it looked relatively unscathed.

She and Poe met with the rest of the group outside the transport, standing on the soft plains close to the lakeside. The natural light was still low due to the overcast weather, casting a dim bluish sheen. Down on the surface, the storm was reduced to a light breeze.

“Lucky that the ship wasn’t reduced to rubble in the crash,” Finn commented.

“Lucky that _we_ weren’t,” Laeya exclaimed, red head-tendrils dancing animatedly.

“Judging by our coordinates and the lake’s position,” Rey began, searching her mind for what little geographical knowledge of the planet she’d managed to attain before they arrived, “there should be a major settlement close by, with smaller outposts scattered in the general area.”

“If the First Order is really still here, they may have seen us,” Tekkan said, looking toward the dim horizon with a frown. Lightning streaked across the sky far above. Watching it, she felt a deep, quiet awe.

“They can’t have if the storm’s confusing their scanners as much as it did ours,” Poe said. His face was set in an uncharacteristic frown.

“If they did, we’d probably have a swarm of TIEs on us by now,” C’ai commented. “Unless they’d simply take us for some ordinary vessel foolish enough to risk our lives in an atmospheric storm.”

“Impossible,” Pyxas quipped. “I didn’t fly all this way to be mistaken for being ordinary.”

In that moment, Rose peered out from the _Iriyana._

“The fuel cells took a serious hit,” she said. “I’ve tried to contain the leak, but the damage is too severe for a makeshift patch-up.”

“Can we make a jump once we’re done here?” Poe asked.

“Negative. As our situation looks now, it will take at least a minor repair, with equipment we don’t have, to be able to make a jump. We will have to find help from outside in order to achieve that. And even then, it’ll only be enough for one jump, as I estimate it. Major repairs will have to be made at one of our own bases—unless we want to risk serious exposure.”

For a moment, Poe was silent, probably going through their different options in his head simultaneously with Rey. She frowned. It wasn’t a lot.

“We came here to help these people out,” Finn said after a pause. “Now it seems we’ve got to rely on _their_ help.”

“ _Can_ we rely on their help?” Laeya queried. “The Mariduns are known to be a pacifist people. Either they are going to want our support against the First Order, or they are going to loathe us as much as they probably do them.”

“Regardless, it would be unwise of us to saunter into one of their villages as a group of fully armed fighters,” Tekkan said calmly. “Wandering through the open landscape as a group would also be risking unnecessary attention and exposure if First Order troops remain planetside. One of us should go to the nearest settlement and negotiate on the Resistance’s behalf.”

Rey didn’t waste many moments speculating.

“I will do it.”

Several heads immediately turned in her direction.

“Rey, are you sure—” Laeya began.

“It hardly has to be one of us alone,” Finn said, a look of an old, barely suppressed worry in his eyes. “A small group of two or three—”

“No—it will be safest for you all if I go alone,” Rey interjected. “It would raise less suspicion. And I will have more means of gathering information of the world and the First Order’s involvement.”

“She’s right,” Rose offered. Rey sent her a grateful look.

Poe watched her for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. We’ll keep in touch over comlink. I’ll try to contact the nearest base in the meantime.”

 

The clouds parted to reveal a late afternoon sun as Rey trekked across the plains, having brought with her nothing but her satchel and the comlink safely secured around her wrist, along with a blaster which she kept hidden away from plain sight, just in case.

She kept the hood of her cloak up, her face hidden in its shade—not that anyone or anything hostile seemed to be occupying this general area; not from what she could see with her eyes, nor sense through the Force. Here, she was alone. Or at least, here, she could try to uphold that illusion.

Then again, if the First Order was here, and monitoring the area from above, their scanners picking up any unexpected intrusion, she would be prepared. It was unlikely that someone would recognize her… or was it? Rey wished she knew _more_ ; about, well, everything. Had she become known throughout the First Order’s ranks already? While on Liintaar, she had felt the people’s growing attention, like a constant gaze levelled on her, whispers following in her wake as rumours spread like a catching fire. Most of them probably untrue—this had been another good reason to get away for a while. Blessedly, the crew of the _Iriyana_ had so far kept from enquiring further. She wondered if _this_ would ever change, if the rumours and stories would only get wilder and more incredible. She doubted it was something she’d ever get fully used to.

Was the First Order looking for her? She couldn’t help but wonder what exactly would happen if she got caught—would the Knights of Ren themselves know of her whereabouts? Would _he_?

A breeze lifted the hem of her cloak and made the grass sing as the well-known pain tore through her. _Damn it all._ If only she could, at least, be able to live with the memory, without the briefest thought of everything that had happened on Ahch-To, and after, filling her heart with such devastating ache… she didn’t know if she ever could.

He had offered her the galaxy. To rule together. As equals.

_As leaders of a torn galaxy. As leaders of the First Order._

_There could have been another way_ , an inner voice whispered, but it was soon defeated by the other, speaking those words like a mantra. Slowly convincing her of their truth. _As leaders of the First Order._ _This_ was the future he had imagined. And it could never be justified. It could never _be_.

Determinedly, she held on to that thought as she walked on, ignoring the voice of doubt in her heart. _A man with ancient lonely eyes—so strange, so well known—offering her his hand like a plea._

Rey estimated she had walked for about an hour when she saw the shapes of a village silhouetted against the horizon. So far, every sky she’d seen, on every new world she’d travelled to, had been remarkably different from any other. So much of her life she’d spent, looking up into the dim skies of Jakku, for a family which would never return. A false knowledge, an illusion built over many years… It would take her long to accustom herself to the brutal truth. That no one was coming back for her like in her fantasies and dreams.

_No_ , Rey thought determinedly as she walked on, _I will not succumb to self-pity, of all things._ Stars knew she had no time for such things.

And part of her could not help but wonder at the true depth of the bond—so far it had felt like an electric field; a strong, quiet glow; a fierce, deep fire. And despite how she might feel about it, it only seemed to be growing stronger—how could she know what it might end up implying? She did not want Kylo to see her like this.

As she reached the outskirts of the village, Rey couldn’t help but notice how eerily quiet it was. The fields surrounding the settlement were freshly cut; its people must still live here. Could the First Order’s presence be felt all the way out here? She walked light-footedly, proceeding with caution, all her senses alert. She sensed life close by, an abundance of it, though whatever it was, it was yet to show.

She forced herself to walk calmly, straightening her spine as she walked between the small buildings made of something that looked like reed and clay—even as every instinct in her body screamed at her to protect herself, to seek cover from invisible, watching eyes. She knew she was not alone.

Having reached the center of the silent village, Rey halted, momentarily closing her eyes as she breathed in deeply.

When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded.

“Stay where you are,” a deep, clear voice said. “Don’t move.”

 

**

 

_He was in his father’s ship._

_Sitting, alone, in the small enclosed space that was the main compartment. His thoughts were a blur, but he didn’t know if focusing on something specific would make it better._

_Everywhere he looked was familiar, a place he’d known by heart since before he could walk. He tried not to be too aware of his surroundings; not to become distracted by the memories which would inevitably arise._

_The_ Falcon _was currently standing in a Coruscanti hangar, on the way to depart shortly for a new, unheard of world. As always, never staying in the same place for too long at a time._

_He supposed neither did he._

_Han emerged from the cockpit, oil smeared on his hands in places; having paused his work of fixing some new damage on the freighter._

_He halted with a greeting. “So—when is it you’re leaving, kid?”_

_Ben shifted his position, careful not to bump his long legs against the small table’s underside. As most other things about his person, they were disproportional; too large and awkward and gangly._

_“The crew had to fix some minor malfunctions on the ship,” he said. “It should take a couple of hours, at most. Then we leave.”_

_“Oh.” Han’s face fell. Ben couldn’t tell if it was sadness or disappointment. It was the first time in months they’d spent actual time together—and then only briefly, before they’d both be on their way again (even this had mostly been a coincidence, really). His father departing for some new, obscure job or assignment. Himself travelling back to meet his master._

_Han sat down on the bench with a sigh. His eyes fell on the objects lying on the table before Ben. He leaned in to look._

_“You sketching?”_

_Ben remained silent as Han studied the drawing more closely. He felt his body growing tense and tried to will himself to relax. He could feel the metallic handle of the lightsaber at his side, hidden beneath the cloak._

_“She’s beautiful, son,” Han finally said. He looked up, a smirk on his face. “Someone special, eh?”_

_He could hear the almost imperceptible hope in the other man’s voice—perhaps still hoping against hope that his son might turn out to be somewhat normal. Something Han would understand. (Maybe if he’d inherited more of his father’s features, those things, at least, might have been easier. He doubted it, though.)_

_He looked down at the drawing himself. It_ was _a rather nice one, the lines vague and precise, shaping the image of soft beauty._

_Mostly, he preferred writing to sketching—but one image had become stuck in his mind; the whisper of a bright dream, refusing to let go._

_“I don’t know who she is. I see her, sometimes, in dreams.”_

_That was the simplest truth._

_Han’s expression was inscrutable. Ben continued, “Sometimes she’s older. A woman. Sometimes just a little girl. But I know it’s the same person.”_

_“Well, son, that’s a bit weird.” There was a moment of awkward silence. Ben didn’t say how he felt about this nameless girl haunting his dreams—how, sometimes, silent tears ran down her face and he wished nothing more than to hold her, comfort her… How her presence had become something he hoped for when he waited to fall asleep at night; a glimpse of light, of hope in the usual darkness of his dreams. How it felt like he_ knew _her and her loneliness, despite her never uttering a word. How, sometimes, he thought he could see the vague outlines of her surroundings, and other times just her._

_“So,” Han tried again. “Haven’t met any nice girls recently? Anyone you like?”_

_Ben strived to keep his voice plain. “No.”_

_After another moment of silence, he offered, “Doesn’t matter anyway, though. Not if I’m going to be a Jedi.”_

_“Oh, right.” Han grimaced sympathetically._

Jedi.

_A bitter feeling had risen in him as he spoke that word, something inexplicable that he couldn’t name. Shadows clouded his mind and his vision, and it was as though the world faded around him, every sound and feeling muted; the only real thing the gaping chasm of darkness inside him—like a current, spiraling infinitely inward. The darkness from his other dreams. His nightmares._

_And then, that voice—the voice which felt simultaneously like whispers and thunder, which came from outside himself and yet seemed to_ exist _within; unfading. Haunting._

_**You will fail them** , it said._

_**They don’t understand. They never could.** _

_**They will suffer.** _

_**They will die because of you.** _

_And then, images; the glimpses of visions following—like the voice itself, they had only become clearer and more vivid over the years. Apparently now they came during the day as well, during the moments he was awake. The ancient, devastating panic and fear took hold of him. Hopelessness—an iron grip closing around his heart, so he was afraid he might scream._

_His parents. Luke. Chewie. Some of the other Padawans from the temple. Other people, people whose faces he didn’t know; lying still on the ground, empty eyes staring into nowhere. All dead. And somehow, he_ knew, _felt in his very soul, that it was his fault._

_**All of them.** _

_The darkness closed in on him in waves, ready to swallow him, consume him—_

_“Ben!”_

_He opened his eyes, blinking as he took in his surroundings. The compartment of the_ Falcon _looked the way it had what could only have been moments ago. His drawing tools lay before him on the table, shattered into tiny pieces by an unseen force. Only the drawing itself was left untouched. He looked down at his hands, clenched so tight he could feel the creaking of the bones._

_His father was looking at him, pure shock written in his features._

_He rose abruptly to his feet._

_“I have to go. The ship will depart soon.”_

_“Ben—” Han began, but he was already turning away._

_“Goodbye, Han.”_

_He walked out fast without looking back, not wanting to see the hurt in the other man’s eyes._

 

**

 

“This is the moment we have been waiting for, for years. _This_ is our chance, at last, to rise and claim the power that was rightfully ours all along.”

The claim was spoken by one of the dark-clad figures in the assembly hall. Though spoken softly, the words echoed off the walls of the chamber, which was currently empty but for the six knights and Kylo himself. They all wore black armour and masks that concealed their faces, and would have appeared as intimidating, cold and expressionless as statues to anyone but him, who sensed their presence in the Force strongly; each signature different from the other.

He was the only of those present who was unmasked. Some of the emotion he felt must have shown, despite his great efforts to hide the surprise, the stunning jolt caused by those few words.

Another knight spoke: “Snoke was no more than a pawn to what he believed to be his own cause. A tool for the dark side to wield. He was a shadow, one who could never have brought true change. He took the title of Leader, without ever proving himself worthy.”

The knight bowed their head in the direction of Kylo, who was still too momentarily stunned to speak.

“We answer to you,” a third knight said. “The one who have fought alongside us. Who has defeated our enemies on the battlefield. Who has willingly killed and let his own blood be spilled for us. You have proven yourself worthy. You were always our true Master.”

Kylo wasn’t sure exactly what he’d expected when he called for the Knights of Ren to assemble on the _Enlightenment_ —to discuss the crucial change wrought by _his_ , inarguably reckless, actions; what it would mean to their future. But it certainly wasn’t _this_.

Resentment, perhaps; even anger with some. There was no point in trying to hide the truth from them—no doubt they had all felt it, to some extent, when he had killed their former master; although they couldn’t possibly be aware of all the circumstances surrounding it. But now, there was no hidden bitterness or anger. Their minds and intentions were clear, laid out for him to see. He sensed only the truth of their words. Along with it, something new and strange, resembling satisfaction—no, _relief._

_We are free_ , their hearts said; a dark exhilaration, finally being able to achieve something their starved souls had craved for so long. He couldn’t help but become affected by it, the strange exhilaration. Though he thought—ironically, with some bitter resentment—that _he_ had yet to feel that freedom. Maybe he just hadn’t realized… His entire life and destiny had been controlled by Snoke, had been decided by Snoke, for as long as he could recall—but something more crucial had changed. Maybe his knights were right.

His thoughts drifted to what Rey had said. As they always did.

His mind, shaping the image of her—as stunningly vivid and bright as it usually only was at night, with only the distant light of the stars to keep him company… This was _not_ helping his focus.

“We are the leaders of what Snoke left us,” he said. “With the majority of the Republic senate and fleet gone, the First Order is on the way to galactic domination.” He paused for a moment, feeling the weight of those words. “The Resistance still lives. So they will, for as long as Leia Organa is alive. New intel suggests their remaining forces may be scattered in different systems, but considerably greater than first assumed.”

“They will not survive for long,” one of the knights said, contempt lacing their words.

“But to underestimate any force actively opposing the First Order would be a crucial mistake,” another commented drily. “I assume the sycophants of High Command suggested we might successfully have eliminated any lingering trace of the Republic and their fleet, and proclaimed ourselves an empire within another standard month?”

Kylo’s mouth curved into the ghost of a smile. An admiral _had_ in fact boasted of something of the sort mere hours ago.

“Regretfully, we must strive to ensure that we maintain the High Command council’s cooperation,” he said. “Though I am now Leader, they are actively in control of a good part of the fleet and military. Most have unwavering loyalty to the First Order, as some of them had to the Empire that came before. Let Hux act on his whims, for now.” _Let him underestimate you, while you must make sure to keep him under constant watch. Let him rattle his chains till he realizes they are unbreakable._ “He is a fool to underestimate Leia Organa.”

Other realizations followed, suddenly; thoughts dawning on him for what felt like the first time. He had followed Snoke, forced himself to believe the illusion that his master was to be blindly trusted. The First Order was Snoke’s government. But did _he_ really want it to remain simply the same? Would it not bring eventual doom and failure as its predecessor? What could he—they—change? What _should_ he change? The thoughts made him dizzy. Oh, he longed for that feeling of freedom—they all did. Something so utterly tempting and exhilarating and terrifying, still just beyond reach.

_You could have just followed her…_

_The only chains binding you are those created by yourself._

But it took long for such freedom to feel true. His master’s will had always been chains of iron; echoes of the twisted, beckoning terror inside him. The scars within them all were deep.

He watched them now; the Knights of Ren, who he thought he knew better than almost anybody else. Their ferocity on a battlefield. Their joys and sorrows and fury. The unflinching loyalty to one another which, he realized, went far beyond any bond existing between them and Snoke—he had yet to find out how, exactly, _he_ fit into this. He was their master—and yet on the battlefield they were all brothers and sisters, bound through life and death.

They all had names—individual names taken from dying stars that few would remember in their tales. But _they_ remembered, and they always would. This was how they would honor one another. Their individual names were not spoken often—especially not in a place like this, where any conversation might be overheard. To the galaxy at large, they would continue to be known only by their shared name.

“So, is _this_ why you sent for us, Master?” sounded the distinctly female voice, regal and powerful even through the modulator of the mask, of the knight standing closest to him. “To look after the half-wits of the High Command council and see that they do not cause inconvenient disturbances or wreak irreparable damage.”

“Despite the immediate impressions of people such as Hux or Windrider, these are not to be underestimated,” he replied calmly. “They may not be politicians—arguably, most of them are better fit on the bridge of a Destroyer than on any senate floor. But they are cunning; some of them even clever. It takes a certain type of ruthlessness for people like that to attain such positions.”

“So we must assume even Hux may be wiser than he appears,” the same knight said sarcastically. “Some wonders never cease.”

“ _Wise_ may be reaching a bit far,” another commented drily. “But of the general’s cunning, I have no doubt. And cunning can be a most dangerous asset in a potential enemy.”

Kylo instinctively went to the chamber’s small viewport. Looking out at the field of stars, he found himself suddenly longing to be back in the cockpit of his Silencer—nothing but the stars and the quiet dark to give him company.

“Some of the High Command, at least, are opposed to the idea of me travelling to Pantora in person,” he said. “They are used to their Supreme Leader hiding in the shadows, leaving them to roam free on the fields of battle as well as politics. If we are to in any way secure the cooperation of these still independent systems and sectors, and form alliances with their leaders, we must show them that the Order has changed. That _we_ can be different. That the new Leader is someone worth their cooperation and respect. In time, perhaps, their trust.”

“For a system so unwaveringly loyal to the Republic, this may be asking for a miracle,” a male knight commented. “Pantora is just one of many systems with these ideals. However will you manage to push through with this transition without bloodshed?”

“That is hardly our specialty,” another said calmly.

Kylo automatically started pacing, thoughts whirling in his head. “I must speak to their governor. It may be just one system, but with it will soon follow the whole sector. Others may learn from their example. They are a beacon, a symbol of power and individuality—the First Order cannot afford to lose it.

“And some of you must remain here, on the _Enlightenment_ , in my stead,” he droned on. “You will see that the fleet admirals do not step out of line. We must work to maintain control of the sectors and trade routes under First Order rule—to remain aware of any spark of potential rebel activity—"

“Now, look at this,” a female knight mused. “Our young master, becoming quite the politician.”

“What of the Jedi?” one queried. “How will we act, if she begins to pose a threat?”

Another knight laughed darkly. “Now, now, brother; remember that not long ago this _Jedi_ was a mere desert scavenger. Rumours of such sparks spread fast. Any threat she has posed so far must be explained with simple luck.”

“Regardless, she now stands alone,” said another. “She has no training, no master. Any threat she might still pose would be limited.”

Kylo halted abruptly. Different, instinctive responses were already prepared in his mind; _no reliable intel so far concerning her whereabouts—she is the only one—not a true Jedi; Skywalker never got around to teach her properly before—_

Skywalker, gone. The knowledge still felt like a cold weight in his chest; something he couldn’t interpret.

He didn’t say any of those things.

He sensed the suspicion, curiosity, the questions unanswered. _Why was she there? Who is she?_

_Our young master, becoming quite the politician._

Uninvited, unprepared for, a memory rose in his consciousness—Han Solo, watching him with an inscrutable glint in his eyes after losing some probably insignificant argument, chuckling softly. _Son, you’d be well on your way to becoming a proper smooth-talking politician like your mother if it wasn’t for Luke and his Jedi blather._

He shoved down the memory with ironclad force before it could grow.

“One must do what one has to, to survive,” he said after a long moment of silence.

He wasn’t sure whether he was answering one of the statements or both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving some feedback.


	6. Enlightenment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shatterpoint, Whirlwind and Enlightenment—as used for the titles of the last three chapters—are all names of different Force phenomenons. Force Enlightenment, specifically, is a light side phenomenon in EU lore—and yes, naming our Supreme Leader’s flagship so is wholly intentional (because beautiful irony).
> 
> Thank you, so much, to everyone who is reading along; every comment and kudos is a treasure.

_Don’t move._

Rey forced herself to keep perfectly still—even as her instincts screamed at her to run into hiding. She kept a façade of calm, even as her heart pounded in her chest.

“Drop your blaster to the ground. We know you are in possession of one.”

Rey did as the cool voice commanded.

“Is it the only weapon you carry?”

Her thoughts flickered to the pieces of the saber in her satchel. She nodded.

She took a brief moment to properly assess her surroundings, her gaze moving over the perhaps two dozen people assembled around her, as well as the couple of others now peering out from the houses. They were human and Lurmen mostly, among them a couple of Ithorians and Lonerans. Most of the villagers wore ordinary clothes, and—expectedly—there were no weapons in sight. Although the fact didn’t make the looks in their eyes feel any less threatening.

She could definitely fight her way out of this, if the need for that arose. These people were supposed to be strong pacifists—which would, of course, explain why _they_ might feel threatened by an armed stranger walking into their village. Even if that armed stranger came alone. Rey didn’t blame them their suspicion.

Overall, this certainly couldn’t be the worst situation she’d ever been in. Not even close. Although the facial expressions of the rather large group of people surrounding her; from furious to suspicious to downright menacing, were far from comforting.

“You come here, a stranger carrying weapons, into our village,” a voice said—it came from somewhere behind her. “We have done nothing to warrant a disruption of our peace. What is your cause, stranger?”

Rey took a deep breath. “I wish not to intrude or disturb your peace. I am from the Resistance.” At this, whispers erupted around her; more expressions turning suspicious or furious. “We come to aid you in your struggles against the First Order. Unfortunately, due to malfunctions with our transport caused by the storm, I must now also ask for your help so that we may be able to leave again in due time. I hope that you’ll be willing to listen—and that you will grant us your help.”

“You come here with war,” a woman said. “Your very presence here will spark conflict and chaos if it is found out. Already it taints our lives. We are a peaceful people. Why should we help you, so you may be on your way and continue to fight your devastating war?”

“But the Resistance would fight for your freedom,” Rey began. “You know who we are; so you must also know our cause. We fight for the Republic. We are on your side—”

“There is no good or bad side, girl,” an older female Lurmen with beady eyes, glinting from the shade of her intricate headdress, said darkly. “There is no _us_ and _them_. There is only the conflict itself, and the inevitable death it brings. The First Order is growing in strength. We may live remotely, but we know enough. There is no other power in the galaxy strong enough to properly challenge it—anything claimed to the contrary is but a foolish illusion. Once before, the people of Maridun have been coerced into fighting for a cause they wanted no part in; once before, war and death were brought to our homes against our will. Now we must try to live under the shadow of the First Order. Rebelling against it will only cause a greater loss of lives.”

_There is no fight against the First Order; not one we can win._

Rey couldn’t help but be shaken by the woman’s words. She felt the truth of it, and knew also the nature of the First Order, with the hopeless realization that no less devastating alternative existed—otherwise they might as well give up their lives and freedom already. The Order would not stop; would not be merciful. Their hunger for power would not be satiated.

_No one ever sees themselves as the villains._

“The First Order started this war,” Rey said in a clear voice. “We are trying to prevent them from achieving galactic domination; something which will be devastating for all systems. Lives may be lost in the war but refusing to protest or fight is equivalent to giving up what little hope of freedom we have left. Surrendering will _not_ save us—already they have proved that they care little for the lives of individuals.”

The scattered whispers around her slowly died out. She could tell the villagers were listening.

“I am not asking you to join our cause,” she continued calmly. “I am not asking you to fight for something that is against your principles. All I ask is that you help us make it out of your system alive—if the First Order realizes we’re here, they _will_ attack. If it is your wish, we will leave Maridun alone and never return. We will not coerce you into further involvement.”

Quiet apprehension seemed to rest over the group of people. More might have gathered in the meantime, however many lived here—now and for an unpredictable time under the shadow of the Order. Their expressions were varying; in the eyes of some a glint of something new, inscrutable. Rey kept her gaze fixed on the one who she thought had spoken first, her senses open and aware, not allowing her focus to waver. The comlink at her wrist blinked suddenly.

The tall male whose gaze she’d held stepped forward, a younger Loneran male walking up at his side.

“It is our wish, stranger,” the tall one said, the same voice who had demanded she remained still. He had a weathered face and shoulder-length light hair, contrasting with the dark tone of his skin. He gestured with a broad hand to the young male standing next to him. “Ashu will help provide you with whatever parts you need.”

Rey bowed her head lightly. “Thank you. I will not forget this kindness.”

There was a brief glimmer in the other’s eyes, there and then gone. “I don’t doubt it. You and your friends will leave before dawn—those are our conditions.”

Rey nodded. _I understand._

A single, lingering breeze blew through the village. The clouds behind the silhouettes of the houses were coloured red and gold with the fire of the setting sun.

 

**

 

_“Dameron?”_

The image of the general—regal-looking and imposing even in the vague blue depiction of the hologram—continued to flicker in and out of existence.

“General Organa—do you read me? We’re at the assigned destination.”

Poe silently damned this storm and this world for putting them into this kind of mess—then damned the First Order to hell for good measure. In the end, he supposed, having an all-powerful enemy to blame made things easier. Although that was hardly a good sign.

He’d been trying for the last hour to contact the Resistance from the main compartment of the transport, working himself through the net of encrypted safes and classified clearance codes set up to protect the command channels from enemy eyes. Only now was he succeeding.

_“I read you, Commander. A part of the leadership has temporarily moved to Vjun—one of your neighbouring systems. You will bring the team to rendezvous at this base after you’ve finished the assignment. Pava and Wexley are scheduled to arrive here soon as well.”_

Relief washed over Poe upon hearing his fellow pilots’ names. This must mean they succeeded; that they were alright. However, he couldn’t let inquiries about their wellbeing interfere with the message he must deliver.

“Well, General, about that,” he began, keeping his tone nonchalant. “We might’ve run into a bit of trouble. Unexpected complications.”

Leia’s hologram visibly raised her brow.

_“I can’t say this is unexpected,”_ she said after a pause. _“Perhaps I should have realized putting the three of you and Rey on the same team would be possibly catastrophic. What is the matter about?”_

“Should be nothing serious, General,” Poe assured her, distractedly raking a hand through his hair while silently correcting her: _Catastrophically_ brilliant. After all, everything had gone surprisingly smoothly until this… incident. “A slight malfunction with the ship. A slightly unfortunate one at that. If we’re lucky, the locals here might be persuaded to help.”

The general sighed. _“Well, I trust you to handle it, Poe. The locals, too—make sure not to make any more enemies while you’re there. Stars know we don’t need that. Report back when you’re ready. I’ll see you at the base.”_

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied as the hologram flickered and vanished.

He rose briskly from his chair and started walking down the center row of the transport. The small, spherical body of his well-loved and trusted astromech soon joined him, emitting a stream of bleeps.

“Now, BB-8; have some cheer for all of us, will ya?” he murmured.

Poe stepped out into the soft light outside where some of the others had already settled down, activated his comlink and tried, for the second time that day, to contact Rey.

This time, the call went through.

_“Poe?”_

“Jedi.” Poe couldn’t keep a smile from his voice. He knew that if they’d been talking face to face, the young woman would have frowned at him— _not a fully trained Jedi_ , and all that. He wouldn’t claim to know exactly how this mysterious Force business worked—what he had learned during his long search for clues to Skywalker’s whereabouts had not shed much light on those things, only made it all the more inscrutable and unfathomable.

But, to his great relief, he had found that talking to Finn’s friend from Jakku was mostly easy and relaxing—despite the mystery part. Besides, she was an excellent pilot.

“Any news?” he asked her. Good news, hopefully.

_We could use some for once._

_“I have the parts,”_ Rey said after a while. _“I managed to persuade the villagers to aid us.”_

Poe breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Seems we’re allowed to have some luck. So—what’s the catch?”

_“The catch?”_

“There’s always a catch.”

_“They aren’t interested in our help, nor do they wish for any kind of involvement. We must leave the planet before sunrise, local time. I didn’t sense any threat—but we’d do well to follow their instructions.”_

“Leaving as fast as we can is our best advantage anyway if the locals don’t want us to fight. C’ai has done a surveillance—First Order facility might be closer than we thought; less than a hundred klicks away from our current position.”

_“As soon as the last of the storm has blown away, even with Rose’s bafflers there’s a risk that their scanners might pick up our signal. We’ll hardly have the firepower to fight a squadron of TIEs.”_

Poe came up with the only solution he could think of. “We’ll leave quickly, then.” _And let’s hope it doesn’t come to that._

Rey was quiet for a moment. _“Have you been able to reach Leia?”_

Poe noticed how her voice softened ever so slightly when speaking Leia’s name.

“I talked to her. We have a destination—this will have to do, for now.” He exhaled slowly. “Is there anything else?”

_“I don’t think the villagers quite trust me—if they would any outsider. The sunset is truly remarkable from here.”_

His lips quirked into a smile. “Alright—see you at the landing spot shortly. Poe out.”

He made his way back into the transport, passing Finn on the way, whom he greeted with a brief smile and a clap on his shoulder.

He found Rose in one of the ship’s compartments, tinkering with what seemed to be an overwhelming number of wires of different size; an assortment of tools littering the floor around her. Her hair hung down over her eyes, and her face was set in a concentrated frown.

She looked up as he entered, her eyes lighting up. “Did you hear from Rey yet?”

“She’s got the parts. We can leave as soon as… well, you know that better than I do.”

“Ah!” Rose exclaimed. “What a relief. Some of these wires are totally fried—lightning must have done some of the damage.”

Poe studied her in silence while she worked. It was easy to see why Finn was so taken by her—probably without even realizing it most of time.

Thinking of Finn made him smile softly for himself. The young ex-trooper had gone through a lot of crazy stuff—and along the way, perhaps finally found his place, his purpose.

Poe had sure seen a lot of crazy things during his life—and especially some of most recent events had made him speculate about various things he’d never given much thought to before. Maybe it was a good thing. Leia would probably say he was finally turning some of that recklessness into common sense (though not too much—the stars knew they needed some rashness and daring sometimes). Or getting his head out of his cockpit, or whatever.

If Rose could become one of the people who would assure Finn of his purpose; who could make him happy -- then he’d be happy for them, too.

He sent Rose another crooked smile as he turned to leave, giving her some room and quiet. “Keep working your magic. We won’t have a long way home.”

 

**

 

_A standard day later._

 

Rey walked down a hallway of the newly constructed Resistance base on one of Vjun’s nameless moons—the planet itself suffering from a lack of anything live and growing as a cause of frequent acidic rainfalls—thinking of how little time it took for vast things to grow and rise, rupture and fall apart again. To the universe, surely, any war or empire or spark must be but a speck of dust on the great sky.

On Jakku, it had often seemed as if one existed in a glass sphere where time stood still; the galaxy evolving around them without them ever being swept away by its flood—trade centers like Niima had been her only glimpse of contact to the outside universe. And then, of course, there were the signs; the glimmers of hope and greatness, stories told by firelight. Relics from a different world, another time. Massive ships from a battle, crashed in the deserts. An old helmet engraved with a symbol and letters forming a name.

Now, they were all here. The sparks and the stories and the legends. The stars, and a war, too. Even the spirits of the past tended to linger.

She’d left Finn and Poe with Jess Pava among some other pilots Rey had known briefly on D’Qar. Some of these had been sent out shortly after the assault on the Starkiller in an attempt to seek out some of the former Republic commanders who had survived the Hosnian Cataclysm—and, along with them, remnants of the Republic fleet. Some of which had already now been intentionally scattered to bases in different remote systems like this one. As of now, this was their best shot at staying out of sight until they were ready.

Rey stopped when she reached the door at the end of the hallway. She stood there for a moment, drawing in a deep breath before entering.

“Rey,” Leia’s voice sounded. “Please come in.”

The general, standing over a holoprojector next to the great viewport, turned around with a smile. Through the transparisteel, Rey could look at the landscape of the moon’s surface—mostly desolate plains of rocks, tinted eerily violet by some rare mineral existing just beneath, barely skimming the surface. The effect was made more profound by the dark sky and the cold, distant starlight—no atmosphere existed, natural or artificial, to obscure space’s dark infinity. The Resistance base was the moon’s only settlement.

She let her gaze move to the hologram still playing; the recording showing a young human female in a senator gown, standing in a levitating pod, speaking to a senate chamber of thousands. Although Rey knew it was a simple recording—decades old judging by the poor quality—it was nevertheless as though she could feel the intensity of the woman’s dark gaze, the emotion of her speech. A shiver of awe ran through her.

_“… My people, your people; all our people—this war is meant to save them from suffering, not increase it. I support our brave soldiers, whether they come from clone factories or from any of the thousands of systems loyal to the Republic. But if we continue to impoverish our people, it is not on the battlefield where Dooku will defeat us, but in our own homes. Therefore, it is our duty and our responsibility to preserve the lives of those around us by defeating this bill.”_

“This was one of Padmé Amidala’s speeches to the Republic during the Clone Wars,” Leia said, watching the hologram. Her eyes were inscrutable, her expression melancholy.

_Padmé Amidala._ Something familiar about this person’s features, about the name; a certain feeling, though Rey didn’t know where it came from— _the glittering lights of a city; the calm, soft colours of a landscape; sunlight reflecting off the rippling surface of a lake; the sweet scent of flowers in bloom._

The realization materialized in her mind just before Leia said, “My mother. She was a queen of Naboo before she represented the system in the Republic Senate—much loved by her people, who grieved her death shortly after the end of the war. In the years of the war, she was secretly married to—”

“Anakin Skywalker,” Rey said softly.

Leia nodded slowly. “A marriage which ended tragically for them both. Few knew of their relationship—until a few years ago, it remained a secret to the galaxy. I learned of my real mother’s identity at the end of the Civil War. More than two decades after her death.”

“But you must have had parents on Alderaan,” Rey said. “The Queen and Viceroy.”

“I always thought of Breha and Bail Organa as my mother and father,” Leia said, smiling sadly. “I still do. They were the most loving parents any child could wish for.”

That way, Rey thought, the realization that one’s real father was no other than the feared Darth Vader must have been a terrible truth to face.

Rey’s eyes flicked back to Padmé Amidala’s hologram. “Do you wish you had known her?”

“In the beginning I could hardly bring myself to face the truth of my parentage. After the war… it all seemed too much to bear, which seems ironic when you think of the way things turned out. Now, I wish I could have known her. She was one of my father’s closest allies—and friends—in the Senate. I wish I could’ve had a chance to talk to Padmé—even if just once. To understand her and know what kind of person she was.”

The other woman was silent for a moment, looking out the viewport at the eerily coloured landscape.

“Although being a princess of Alderaan was rarely easy, I had a childhood better than most could have hoped for,” Leia said. “Breha Organa was every bit the loving mother I wanted and needed… I wonder, sometimes, how I could grow up to become the mother I was. I was never there for my son when he needed it.”

“Don’t say that,” Rey said fiercely. “You can’t blame yourself for what Snoke started—what he had planned all along.”

Leia turned to look at her. “But would any of it have happened—would Snoke have been able to plant that seed of darkness in my son’s mind if it was not already vulnerable?”

_He manipulated your son since his birth, preyed on him from the very beginning. That seed of darkness was there all along._ Could anything have been done to prevent Ben Solo’s fall to darkness? She thought of Leia’s words, and what he had said. _Let the past die._ The bond to his family; so ruined that he couldn’t ever imagine a way to return. She felt a lump rising in her throat.

And the betrayal of his uncle, his Jedi Master… The truth of what Luke had done, or intended to do, stood before her, harsh and undeniable. No amount of remorse could undo the damage caused by that moment of doubt.

Could anything have been done, in the end?

Rey wasn’t sure she knew the answer.

“You cannot blame yourself for what happened to your son,” she said, willing strength into her voice. “No one person can be fully blamed.” _Maybe least of all himself_ , her consciousness whispered. “If we continue to delve into the darkness and mistakes of the past, we will never have a chance to restore hope.” To build a future.

Leia was silent for so long that Rey began to wonder if she’d said something severely upsetting. _Of course, it is upsetting_ , her inner voice scolded her. _It’s all upsetting—more so because he is her son._

Then the general straightened and met Rey’s eyes once more. When she spoke, her words were so soft they were almost inaudible.

“You’re right, of course.” She paused, looking suddenly weary and, in a sense, older than Rey had ever thought her to be. “Luke would have told me the same thing in the past. No matter how—no matter how impossible it seems, we must always move on.”

Rey didn’t know how to respond. The way Leia looked, somehow past the room and the hologram and the world beyond, eyes distant, made her think perhaps words were redundant.

A minute or two passed. Rey could feel the weight of the broken saber pieces at her side.

“This was not the only reason you sent for me, was it?” she said softly at last.

Leia’s familiar dark eyes slowly seemed to shift into focus.

“No. It was not. The reason I wanted to talk to you… well, I didn’t want to keep this knowledge to myself. I wanted to share it with someone I trusted; someone other than the Resistance leadership.”

The general pressed a button on the projector and the image of Padmé Amidala faded away, replaced by another.

It was a map, covering the entirety of the charted galaxy from the Core to the Outer Rim and the Unknown Regions, filled with bright lines and fluorescent dots and fields, constantly moving and reshaping. Rey watched it in silence for a moment, simply admiring the map and its capabilities. Then she noticed how some of the vast, growing fields were coloured in red hues, turned purple by the surrounding mass of blue light. The realization came suddenly.

“The First Order,” she breathed.

The red fields were in constant motion on the map, their areas spreading like blood spilling from a wound. Every time it touched some major system or dominated an entire new sector or trade route, their names bloomed up on the map. _TAPANI. MIRRIN. TRIELLUS._

She knew the First Order’s domination was ever growing—but she had never imagined she’d witness it grow so rapidly. Unstoppably.

Other names—systems all the way into the Deep Core—showed up in large letters. _RHINNAL. ESSESIA. RALLTIIR. CORUSCANT._

The last one especially had her gasping softly in horror. This was a turning point. No speculations of _how_ , by the stars, they were going to successfully keep fighting this brought her any useful answers.

She felt a sudden rush of anger, fiery and dark. All these worlds, entire sectors, who had been given no _choice_ , no chance to protest the cold-blooded violence and military oppression of the Order before it took away their freedom.

And this was why they must fight, she realized. Why _she_ would continue to help the Resistance. She would help these people, fight for them; do what she needed to, to be their hope. To be that hope for herself. _Whatever it takes me, I promise that I will succeed._

Even if some part of her couldn’t help but feel the sudden, jarring twinge of regret— _sorrow_ —that somehow this seemed to put them even farther apart. That infuriating doublemindedness only made her turn her frustration on herself.

How would he react to her anger? _Would_ he react—did he even care about those small things of infinite meaning?

_You know he does_ , her inner voice said, and deep down, she knew it was right. But this didn’t make any of it easier to comprehend—only more vast and complicated.

The general gestured to a number of small blinking dots scattered mostly in the Outer and Mid Rim areas. Rey wouldn’t even have noticed them if she hadn’t been made aware.

“These mark the places where the remnants our fleet are located,” Leia said. “This map is heavily encrypted, of course. Even if someone without my personal code signature managed to unlock it, these dots would appear to mark only closed-down stations or lifeless asteroid fields.”

She sighed. “It’s not longer two governments, grappling for power and fighting about who has the upper hand. Even with those remnants of the Republic fleet, we are a small, ill-equipped army, forced to remain scattered and hidden to preserve our little chance of existing. A meager resistance facing off against an empire.”

“Well,” Rey said, keeping her voice light. “It’s not like you haven’t been there before.”

The other woman looked at her, a glint in her eyes. Then she smiled, suddenly, despite the situation. “I suppose you’re right in that sense. Still, we seem to be somehow persistently alive. Assumedly, we must just—”

“Carry on,” Rey finished.

 

It was getting late. Not that it made much of a difference—what little natural light reached the moon from the system’s distant star looked nearly always the same; blue and cold.

Rey was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her chamber, the pieces of the Skywalker lightsaber spread out before her.

She opened her eyes, watching the two halves of the crystal with a frown. Her mind had formed patterns—several patterns—during the last couple of days, finding inspiration in drawings and depictions of old saber designs used by Force wielders over the time. One idea had eventually arisen which she favored much above the others—it seemed to strike a satisfying chord within her—but she was not yet sure if it could be done.

_Well_ , she mused, _not much else to do than try._

There was a shift in the energy surrounding her—the constant current of the Force suddenly increasing; bending and adapting.

This time, it was only a brief warning—like a soft tuning of the electric bond snapping into existence.

“If you need help with that, do tell me,” Kylo said in a vaguely drawling voice.

He stood leaning against the vast window frame—though from his perspective, in his location, it was probably something else—wearing what looked to be formal dress.

It was black, like every other piece of clothing she’d ever seen him wear. (She wondered if he owned any clothes that weren’t black.) Black trousers and boots. A slim-fitted black tunic, plain but for thin, subtle patterns of embroidery running across the fabric. A long cloak hung from his shoulders, fastened with a silver clasp at the base of his throat.

“I’m doing quite well on my own, thank you,” she said sarcastically.

_I can’t do this now_ , she thought; then, _I have to_. Then—with a strange, treacherous feeling of relief— _At last._

He shifted, and the light caught the waves of his black hair, reaching almost down to his shoulders.

_Stop it_ , she sternly told herself. Or whatever—apparently significant—part of her mind noticed such things.

It also occurred to her, then, that he must somehow be able to see the saber. She didn’t want to ponder what that might mean.

“It is usually said that a lightsaber reflects the nature of its wielder,” he said calmly. “What would it say about you, wielding a saber with a broken crystal in its core? A weapon, too, which holds so many memories.”

“And what does it tell about you,” she retorted coldly, “when you wield a blade that is red like the blood it has drawn, fiery and dark with the devastation it has caused?”

_Perhaps very fitting_ , his thoughts came drily in response. _Especially if you still prefer to think of me as a monster._

Rey ignored the tone of that mental voice. She remembered with a pang the second time they’d seen each other and talked through the Force—when she had, for the second time, called him a monster, and he had shocked her by admitting it. The unexpected regret in his eyes.

How could he sound so _calm_ , she wondered angrily, knowing that all across the galaxy, First Order forces were striking and claiming control of countless defenseless star systems on his orders?

_Rey_ , his voice sounded again. So earnest. So… _vulnerable_.

_You can’t do this alone. You don’t have to._

And why did it seem like he was almost fighting with himself, his mind forming the words without his consent?

She swiftly rose to her full height.

“You don’t get to speak like that,” she said, her voice filled with anger and that damnable _hurt_. “Not after everything you’ve done.” A shadow fell over his face, but it didn’t cause her to hesitate.

“You must be satisfied, now. You get what you wished for after all—an empire.”

“’What I wanted’?” he snarled, eyes suddenly darkening. “You think _this_ is what I wanted?”

“You have things the way you saw them to be,” she continued relentlessly. “The way you thought was the only way forward. You have achieved greater power and dominance than him. _This_ was your goal, was it not?”

He had started pacing, his body caught in a sizzling, electric energy that forbade him to stand still.

“It was my master’s goal—my master’s wish…” he broke off his sentence, his eyes suddenly distant, his lips shut tightly.

“Not like this,” he murmured quietly after a moment. “It was never meant to be like this. Trust me, _nothing_ has happened the way I wanted it.”

She now noticed how tired he looked, something like devastation written in his features; his dark eyes seeming even more deep set than they usually were.

Rey didn’t know if it was the unexpected softness and exasperation in his voice, or the lost look in his eyes. Whatever it was, it caused most of her fury to abate. She didn’t have it in her to fight with him now. She wasn’t sure she knew what she was fighting for.

“Not long ago,” he said softly, “you were quite eager to save me.”

The words stung more than they should.

“I made some mistakes. We both did.”

She had thought she was ready, that _he_ would be ready. She had acted recklessly, following her intuition. But she would not let such meager hopes guide her again. She’d learned from that mistake.

He moved his gaze, his eyes meeting hers.

Rey felt a strange twist in her heart as she remembered the feeling of balance, of wholeness, from when they’d fought side by side. But she forced herself not to think about it. She had been wrong. She had failed… or so she must believe.

Otherwise she might be unable to move forward at all.

_It wouldn’t be the first time you preferred to cling to an illusion…_

She swallowed.

“There you were,” Rey whispered. “Kylo Ren, offering me the galaxy.” She took a step closer, not breaking eye contact. “Don’t you realize I didn’t want the galaxy? I just wanted _you_ —the person behind the mask, the one I’d come to _know_ … Just you.”

The words were like jolts, shaking her to her core as they flowed from her lips uncontrollably. From the disbelief on his face, she knew they must be as stunning to him as they were to her.

“I want _you_ back,” Rey said. “I want the Ben that I talked to on Ahch-To. The person I learned to know and understand. I want the person with whom I fought alongside, who had the courage to turn against his master.” She paused for a moment, breathing in. “I know that person still exists. And I know it is your true self.”

“And who says I am not still that person?” he said quietly. “That the person you look upon now is not the same person you saw then, whom you spoke to and learned to know? You _claim_ this is not my true self—”

“You know it isn’t,” she retorted, frowning in frustration. “You tried to find your way back, yet _you_ are the one still holding on; clinging to the past and the truth taught to you by your dead master.”

“ _You_ refused my offer. We could have prevented this from happening… We could have made things right.”

“The way you suggested is not right. It will never be.” Her chest was heaving. She felt a lump rising in her throat for the second time that day. “You must see this—you must _realize_ what is already now happening… the whole galaxy is affected by it! How could we become anything but tyrants? How could we bring anything but ruin?”

“ _Stars_ , Rey—” His voice was different now, almost pained. His breathing was shallow, and he looked anywhere that wasn’t at her.

Then Kylo walked closer to her, and she was stunned by the desperation in his eyes. The heart-wrenching honesty in his voice when he said—

“I never wanted the First Order. I’m not _interested_ in the First Order.”

Rey felt paralyzed, unable to move or speak.

“Rey, I wanted—” His voice was shaking, as if he was fighting with himself to even say those words—words that changed everything. The unexpected insecurity alone was enough to make her freeze.

“I wanted _you_ ,” he said at last. “To be with you. I want you.”

The words, what they _meant_ , made her light-headed. Her mind and heart felt dizzyingly light, caught in a whirlwind, tossed round and round until she didn’t know her way.

Her mind was utterly blank, unable to form words, to say anything in response to… _this_. She didn’t know how she was supposed to react.

Something had changed—in him, and in her, and she felt as though she couldn’t comprehend the true vastness of it; what made this so crucially different. The tone of his voice, his whole demeanour seemed different, in a way she’d never seen with him before.

_I saw who you are_ , his mind spoke to hers. _And I know your past does not define you. I know the true extent of your power—something no one else could ever understand. They’d rather not face the truth. I know who you can be, if you let yourself._

_And you spoke to me. You reached out your hand…_

From one moment to the next, countless replies materialized in her head; too many for her to properly fathom their meaning. But when she answered, the words were all wrong. The shadow fell over his face once more, as her inner voice screamed at her, _No, no, this is not right._

“I never wanted this,” Rey whispered. “I never chose… _any_ of this.”

_But you didn’t run, either._ His dark gaze narrowed. You _came to me._

“Where would I run to?” Her voice turned cold.

“You shouldn’t have to run. Or be alone.”

_Neither should you._

That feeling of wholeness, of balance, suddenly pushed askew. Such a precious, fragile thing, so easily shattered. She thought, suddenly, that it _should_ be stronger. It wasn’t fair that it had to be like this. They should be stronger.

Frustration and grief burned in her. Somehow, it always came back to this. And she was so tired—tired of it all.

_I just want to… Stars, I want this to end._

She sensed his presence fading. His voice was dark and weary, empty in a way it hadn’t been just before.

“Then end it.”

 

Rey was sitting alone on the floor of her empty chamber, her eyes shut against the outside world.

She breathed deeply and reached out—the same way Luke would have taught her to do if the Jedi Master had been here. Almost immediately, a trance fell over her as she vividly sensed the life and energy surrounding her, close and faraway, some of it glowing brightly despite distances. All of it bound together in endless patterns, twining in and out of each other. And above it all, between it all; a balance—life and death, dark and light pulling and flowing like tide, in the eyes of the vast universe creating a perfect, indestructible harmony.

Rey felt all those lives and impressions, all that energy flowing inside her and around her, as if it were a ribbon of water flowing at her fingertips. She felt the lives of the present, and the lives of the past—her own life; filled with longing and waiting. A deep, crushing patience, acquired over many years of solitude. And finally, she saw the glowing shapes of a future, yet inscrutable and undecided.

As the stars sang and shone with their distant light beyond her closed eyelids, she felt those rivulets of energy around her, slowly increasing, turning into a mighty flood that she could control with her will and instincts. And it whispered to her.

The cracked pieces of the lightsaber handle—along with the two halves of the kyber crystal, glowing as if lit up from within—slowly rose from the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Padmé’s speech is from episode 11 of the third season of The Clone Wars. The full version can be viewed here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghOzwa3Dh0w


	7. Rekindle the Fire, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I want to reconcile the violence in your heart_
> 
> _I want to recognize your beauty’s not just a mask_
> 
> _I want to exorcise the demons from your past_
> 
> _I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart_
> 
> “Undisclosed Desires”, Muse

Through the gilded windows of the council chamber, placed at the highest level of the governmental compound with an astonishing view of the capital city below, the current governor and Chairwoman of Pantora could behold the faint light of the afternoon sun, struggling to reach through the unrelenting cover of fog.

If the Chairwoman strained her eyes, she could trace the outlines of First Order vessels hanging low in the atmosphere like dark vultures. The fog had not disappeared during the entirety of their foreign military presence. The stars only knew what else might be polluting the air from whatever weapons the Order—and the Pantorans, once they’d begun to fight back—had put to use. Just earlier this day, the Assembly had given out official instructions for civilians to stay indoors. A necessary safety precaution.

The Chairwoman exhaled slowly, wondering how it had come to this, so fast. Perhaps, in the end, this had always been the only possible outcome. The thought grieved her in a way she wouldn’t have thought possible mere weeks ago.

The council chamber—normally the domain of the full Pantoran Assembly, where they came to discuss political issues and matters at hand on behalf of the moon’s population—was now empty but for the Chairwoman herself. The high-ceilinged chamber seemed somehow colder and more forbidding.

She knew very well that someday soon, all of this might be gone. Already supplies to the moon had become sparse. This invasion was tearing at them, wearing them out; her, the government, the otherwise strong-willed people. What neither of them knew was whether that day would be tomorrow, or someday in the future ahead.

There was a soft sound, like the ringing of a bell. She saw in the periphery of her vision that the holoscreen currently situated behind her lit up in a flash of bright blue.

The Chairwoman touched panel on her chair, causing it to turn away from the windows to face the holoscreen and the incoming communiqué. The face that showed up on the screen was that of her personal advisor Taeh’yen—marred with more lines and shadows than she remembered from just a few weeks ago.

He inclined his head in greeting. “Ma’am. I hope all is well.” It seemed to her that his voice sounded more clipped and formal than usual. Perhaps it was simply the quality of the audio transceivers. Or perhaps this was some matter beyond simply the usual concern.

_Pantora is under siege_ , the Chairwoman thought. _Every matter of concern is beyond the ordinary._

She straightened her back, leaning slightly forward to show that he had her attention.

“My apologies for the interruption, ma’am, but I wished to deliver this message to you directly,” Taeh’yen said. He cleared his voice, uncharacteristically ill at ease. “We just received a transmission. The Supreme Leader of the First Order requests an audience.”

She stiffened for only a moment before she regained her posture. Barely perceptible clicking and whirring sounds floated in the room around her. There was a brief flash of projected light from one of the other chairs in the chamber.

_The Supreme Leader of the First Order._ The Order which had caused Pantora, and the galaxy, ever-increasing grief. It had been two weeks since their arrival in their sector, almost immediately fixing their merciless gaze on Pantora and a few surrounding worlds. A Star Destroyer had hovered in their atmosphere during that time. So far, the number of troopers and war machines deployed from that and accompanying vessels had seemed inexhaustible. By some kind of miracle or through the will of the Force itself, at least to this point, the Pantoran military forces had managed to hold them off. Any attempt to talk sense to or negotiate with their invaders had proved futile so far.

She didn’t know what the meaning behind this shortly announced visit might be. If they were all simply playing into the First Order’s schemes. The First Order’s Supreme Leader had always been a mysterious figure—no one in the galaxy truly new where they had come from, or who they were. Until recently, too few had cared. What little one heard did not give the impression that they were someone who did much of their negotiating in person—rather remain in the shadows, pulling the strings.

Newest rumours suggested that a major transition had taken place. That something had happened during a crucial battle with Leia Organa’s Resistance. That there was now a new Supreme Leader—this was all the rumours seemed to agree on.

She supposed she’d soon find out the truth for herself.

The Chairwoman steeled herself. For many years of her life, when she had spoken, she had spoken for Pantora. At all times, it was crucial that they represented a united front, a world as flourishing and prosperous as many greater systems—they had achieved the influence and power they possessed over many years, through much hard work and diplomatic skill. The Chairwoman herself had spoken on behalf of her world to many assemblies of representatives of vaster and more influential worlds, who looked down on smaller systems, misjudging their true potential out of prejudices based on everything from the size of their population to their position in the galaxy, located so far away from the Core. Despite all this, they would not be cowed.

She could do the same thing today as well.

“Summon the members of the Assembly,” the Chairwoman said. “And tell the Supreme Leader that his request will be admitted."

 

**

 

Kylo Ren had a bad feeling from the moment they landed in the _Upsilon_ -class command shuttle which had transported them from the _Subjugator_ down to the surface of Pantora—rich and colourful under the dimmed shine of the system’s star. Around them, the capital city’s domed buildings had cast long shadows as the shuttle carried them beyond the First Order’s outpost, all the way to the towering governmental compound with its distinctive transparisteel facades situated in the capital’s center. The streets were empty, the city itself silent and sleeping, as though fallen under a spell.

On the horizon hung the sun like a heavy, dark orange orb in the sky, obscured by the layer of fog, casting an ethereal light on the warships and siege weapons amassed beyond the outskirts of the city. With the battles moving continuously closer the city itself, it was no surprise that its people would wish to remain behind closed doors.

His jaw clenched as he perceived the situation of Pantora. If one could simply go back and alter this specific chain of events… There would perhaps be a greater chance. But fighting had already taken place. Whatever relation might have existed between the First Order and Pantora had already been shattered—at it was up to him to try to mend the pieces back together.

He’d be lying if he suggested that he hadn’t already several times doubted if this would be worth the effort. But logic told him it might set an example.

Just one world representing a single starsystem—yet a system which might soon bring with it the rest of its sector and surrounding trade routes.

Even with this, and a swarm of other currently urgent matters, filling his mind, thoughts of Rey seemed always inclined to take over—sometimes he felt that all his thoughts came in circles, eventually leading back to one point of origin. He kept replaying their last conversation, though pondering the shattering sentiments which had been revealed between them then must only serve to increase the contradictions in what he was now commencing. It certainly served to increase the strong jolts of anguish caused by memories of the look on her face.

It had felt like instinct. A truth which had come to seem inevitable. But this was exactly the kind of thing that he’d over the years made a habit of avoiding—like the purest instinct of survival. Clamping down on those raw emotions the moment they were laid bare, attempting in vain to convince himself that they were less real than the anger which followed.

_“I never wanted this,” she said, voice soft yet powerful, unshed tears adding a startling brilliance to her eyes._

Anger. And betrayal.

Though with Rey, above all, it was _hurt_. Something his old self had been able to find no logical explanation for; not without shattering those walls built from false truths. Everything was different, _truer_ , when it came to her. She didn’t even give him a choice. It felt terrifying and exhilarating.

Perhaps then, he was a fool for still attempting to deny it—but it was an old habit that he apparently still clung to.

After all, he was the one who had tried to convince her of its truth.

Yet despite all this, despite how utterly _unreasonable_ it might be, the hurt was still there.

It was more difficult for him than it should be to keep an eye and his senses fixed on his surroundings; the bright corridor with its smooth, gleaming walls and stunning overview of the city and the sky beyond the balustrade. The softly pulsing energy streams of life from somewhere ahead, as well as the group of Pantoran guards and the squad of stormtroopers accompanying him—the former regarding the latter with icy, if masterfully suppressed, hostility.

He figured that if it came to a disagreement not solvable by diplomacy, or if this should turn out to be an ambush, a single squad of stormtroopers wouldn’t last long in the heart of the Pantoran government, swarming with their own soldiers. In that sense, he was very much on his own.

_Trapped, alone, and forced to rely on the hospitality and honor of the people my government attacked_ , he thought drily. _Surely this cannot have been my most solid scheme._

“Supreme Leader, sir,” the Pantoran captain addressed him stiffly as they reached a set of double doors, decorated with images carved with delicate precision. “You must leave your troopers behind when you enter the domain of the Assembly. While in the presence of our honoured Chairwoman, we expect visitors to respect our code of honour, which forbids any harm to be done against our guests.”

This was mere polite formalities, something which might be expected. Kylo nodded once, then gestured for the stormtroopers to remain outside as the double doors opened slowly to reveal a vast, circular room. Slowly, he walked inside.

The council chamber was placed at the uppermost level of the governmental compound’s main tower, its transparisteel walls showing a magnificent view of the city, bathed in the last rays of sun. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to take it in.

There was a single row of sleek, high-backed chairs placed in a circle following the room’s edge. At the head of the assembly, directly across from the entrance, sat a woman dressed in silver robes, her feathery white hair arranged in elaborate braids atop her head. She had a stately air around her, and in her careful scrutiny he perceived a cleverness and wariness attained over many years. Though she wore a façade of calm indifference, exhaustion lined her face.

Half of the remaining twenty chairs were occupied by their respective members of the Assembly; four of those were actually physically present—the remaining six showed their presence in the form of silvery holograms, occasionally flickering in and out of existence.

“Outrageous! Zealous, tyrannical murdering bastards!”

His head automatically turned to the source of the loud, booming voice. It was one of the members attending the meeting through hologram—a powerfully built male who looked to be in his late seventies; his most remarkable feature a long, braided beard and his current thunderous expression.

“The shameless _audacity_ , to come here to the heart of Pantora itself with your order of coldblooded murderers—"

_Excellent start_ , Hux’s nasal voice commented in his mind. He shuddered inwardly with revulsion at the thought.

Well—apparently the Pantorans’ code of honour only reached so far as to include physical harm.

As Kylo tried to form a decent reply; one that would serve as an apology for the current mess of things (which would be right and just, as his order had already showed little respect by attacking in the first place), whilst also being an introduction to smooth things out, another assembly member; a middle-aged woman who was physically present, commented, “While I have deep faith in the honorability and necessity of our codes of honour, which dictate that utmost politeness must always be shown toward one’s guests, and while I would perhaps not use the exact same vocabulary as Master Vaeresh myself, I must admit to feel inclined to agree with part of his sentiment. Perhaps with an added, _what in the name of good were you and your stars-damned Order thinking_?”

He suddenly wasn’t sure what delusions he’d been acting from when he suggested this idea. This was a meaningless quest, an inconsequential waste of time—this was not how the First Order operated. But this was exactly what people like Hux would say. This was how his master had ruled—relying on the might of military oppression while avoiding any real involvement.

Maybe he had to do this.

“Master Vaeresh, Master Qii Wu’un,” the Chairwoman said suddenly. “You will show the Supreme Leader the honour and hospitality befitted any guest and allow him to speak his proposition.”

Though her voice was calm, the force behind the request was unmistakable—every murmur instantly died out.

Her expression remained indifferent, but when her eyes met his, he felt the emotion in them—suspicion and doubt, anger and despair for her world, and if not for her gaze, it would have seemed that she was neither encouraging or discouraging him.

A sudden flash of brightness through the viewports caught his eyes. It appeared to come from somewhere around the outskirts of the city. His senses instantly flared, his mind alert. It might have been just a reflection of light. Or it might be a sign of something else going on.

Emboldened, he began to speak, inclining his head in a formal greeting to the Pantoran leader. “Honoured Chairwoman. I come here as Supreme Leader, as representative of the First Order. I believe any further introduction would be redundant; the Assembly knows who I am, and for what purpose I have come here. To negotiate a means of peaceful cooperation between our two great governments, with no more lives needlessly lost.”

“To negotiate our _peaceful surrender_ , he means,” said one of the Assembly members, only present via a flickering hologram.

“ _Representative_ ,” another, younger one commented with a sneer. “As if your opinion is not the only one which will matter anyway. Dictatorial bastard.”

There was a faint gasp from some of the others. This Kylo pointedly tried to ignore. He could feel the fatigue already pressing down on him. The familiar heat of temper rising.

“The First Order _attacked_ our world without warning,” the hologram of an older woman shouted. “You and your Order must be insane to believe you have any justifiable grounds of negotiating!”

The Chairwoman held up a hand to once again command silence.

“Supreme Leader,” she said plainly, “forgive us. Please continue.”

He forced himself not to meet the hostile gazes surrounding him. Many of the Assembly members were wary and quiet, but the hostility of some others, those who weren’t physically present—perhaps this made them feel less threatened—was sharp and cold. He felt their judgement of him instantly, like a physical force.

_They don’t know anything_ , a voice inside his head said. _You don’t owe them anything. Their power is nothing compared to yours._

“The First Order is a new one from the one that invaded your planet weeks ago,” he said. “The old Supreme Leader is no more. It is true—negotiations of peace may seem difficult when battles have already been waged between the First Order and your people. But an attempt must nevertheless be made. It is our hope and wish that Pantora, and with it surrounding systems which may follow, will become part of the First Order—to join us in fulfilling the hope of a united galaxy.”

Once again, he was distracted by a flash of light—this time appearing to come from another part of the city. He frowned slightly. His sensed, sharpened by the Force, told him something was amiss. The vastness of the issue would yet remain to be seen. He made a mental note to investigate it later.

The Chairwoman rose to her full height, her strong gaze fixing his. “Supreme Leader—it must be made clear that I, on behalf of our entire system, never wished for any involvement with your Order. What has happened cannot be changed, though it was far from the peace we wished for. Therefore, you must realise that the choice you have put before us is equally simple and impossible. We do not have the military power to keep fighting your Order’s invasion—sooner or later we would be outnumbered and defeated, and by then having lost all chances of any mutually beneficial cooperation. Surrendering our independence is not a choice we happily make. But for the sake of Pantora, I believe it is the only possible way. I hope our people will realise” – this was added with a hint of bitterness – “that this is done for the sake of their safety, and for the continued prosperity of our world.”

None of the Assembly members dared to voice their disagreement or discontent. Some of them still had anger simmering in their eyes and expressions, but with most, it was cowed by fatigue and dull indifference. The sight of their hopelessness left a sudden, jabbing sensation in his chest.

It hit him all of a sudden, the impossibility of the situation the First Order had left them in. That _he_ had left them in. The hopelessness and devastation he would feel, if it were him whose home was being taken from him, estranged.

_Which home?_ the chorus of inner voices already countered. _Your family? Your master? Whatever belonging you thought yourself worthy of was lost to you._

“We are grateful for your willingness to cooperate,” he said after only a brief pause, maintaining his composure. “We will shortly—”

He was cut off by a third, blinding flare of light beyond the viewport, briefly lighting up the world with the brightness of a small sun, followed by the deafening sound of an explosion.

 

**

 

The destruction was clear only when one travelled beyond the still glittering, if now dimmed by the smoke and fog, glass-scape of the city’s center, to the outskirts where city met marshland and forest—Pantora had, days or hours ago, been in flames, and the smoke was still rising from the now desolate area which had been the catalyst of the battle.

On the horizon, the governmental complex towered above the city, situated on the top of a hill, glinting dimly in the last rays of the day.

“Promethium and transparisteel,” Rose remarked. “Probably some hollinium in there too for the detailing. The worth of this lovely, gleaming tower could have kept the entire population of Hays Minor well fed for a whole season. Maybe two.”

“Lovely gleaming tower better keep its peers safe when the FO’s ships start moving in,” said Finn, following her gaze.

The Resistance transport, disguised as a cargo shuttle delivering spare supplies to the city’s outskirts, sped through the dim atmosphere toward a—very specific—spot on the ground, carrying Rose and Finn along with the other members of their group.

“I don’t like the way these ships are watching our approach.” It was C’ai’s voice coming from the cockpit.

“Well, it’s not like you can see whether they’re watching us or not,” Pyxas objected.

“I agree with C’ai,” Laeya’s voice sounded. “It feels awfully exposed. Can’t you fly more… I don’t know, casually?”

An exasperated sound—definitely Poe. “If you don’t like the way I fly, try flying _casually_ yourself. Relax. We’ll be fine.”

Finn shook his head exasperatedly, laughing quietly in a way that made his eyes light up.

The unknown operatives they were about to rendezvous with on the ground had sent them clearance codes to get them past the First Order’s blockade—the stars only knew where they’d snatched them from, but it had got them through so far without any trouble. Trouble was definitely about to come, though—none of them needed any amount of Force sensitivity to predict that.

Smoke was yet rising from the fields of combat, First Order ships hung like predatory looming shadows in the bleak sky; despair and hopelessness was rapidly spreading through the city from the outskirts to its center.

Yet some of its population, it seemed, remained more than ready for a fight—clinging onto their last scrap of freedom, fiercely, until their last dying breath. Rose understood those people very well, and hoped for them. She would assist them in every way she was able. Yet she was also perfectly aware of how their odds looked. The Pantorans had gained ground against the Order’s forces earlier—but while their enemy had an inexhaustible number of troops and armaments to be dispatched, those few locals who had the spirit and will to persist would soon be outnumbered.

The transport touched down on the soft earth amid the shadows of trees and buildings that looked to be partially built from scraps. The group disembarked, hidden in this ragtag faraway corner of the city that few would look at with much interest, any weapons they hadn’t left on the ship hidden by their clothes, just in case.

They were met by a man presumably in his late thirties wearing plain clothes—a not so well disguised rifle hanging over his shoulder, but perhaps that wasn’t the point. He wordlessly gestured for them to follow, then turned swiftly around and walked back through the doorway of the anonymous building he’d emerged from. After a moment’s hesitation, Rose followed him as the first. Finn and the rest of the group soon came along, even the pilots now silent as the world around them.

A veil of thick fabric, rather than a proper door, sealed the main room of the building from the outside elements. Inside was a holographic map hovering above a dusty floor void of any furniture, around which sat a group of twelve people all clad in the same anonymous fashion as the person who had led them inside—a person who was clearly not their leader, Rose concluded. Rather, a strong-looking, dark skinned woman with a shawl draped around her head seemed to hold that position, standing straight across from the entrance and eyeing the group with a fixing stare, a palpable manner of authority about her.

_Assa Sii’a._ Rose remembered her name now. The leader of the local movement fighting the First Order’s invasion on their world, who had mere days ago made contact with one of the late Admiral Ackbar’s network of allies, calling for the Resistance’s aid in their uprising. The eyes of the strangers watching Rose and her friends were blazing and alert, though the overall demeanor of the people was weary and sunken. _This is what resistance the people of Pantora has to offer_ , she couldn’t help but think.

It was Assa Sii’a who spoke first. “Poe Dameron. C’ai Threnalli. Pilots, already legendary for your achievements. Finn—the ex-storm trooper, of course, your story and brave actions have become quite the legend as well. And—Rose Tico, if I’m not mistaken, from the battle of Crait.”

Rose and the others stood silent, a bit too taken aback by proof of their apparent reputation to speak. The leader continued, “And I am Assa Sii’a.” She made a gesture toward the rest of the people sitting around her. “Hereby welcoming you to our humble refuge. There’s not much left, as you can see, but we like to thank the First Order for that. We are the only ones left.”

“Hold on.” Poe looked at the leader, frowning. “What do you mean, you’re the only ones?”

Assa Sii’a fixed him once again with a penetrating stare. “Matters have changed, I’m afraid, and quite drastically so, in the time it took you to arrive here. We are very thankful for your help. But we are running out of time. Now, let’s get to it.”

“I believe, first of all, we’d like to know,” Rose said. “What can possibly have made matters more urgent than the fact that your world is under siege?”

Assa’s gaze slowly moved to her. “In this very moment, someone high in the First Order’s ranks, possibly even the Supreme Leader himself, is speaking to our Pantoran Assembly—negotiating the terms of our system’s surrender. Our Chairwoman has given up hope. To the galaxy at large, we have lost.”

Rose saw Finn stiffen beside her. Poe took a demonstrative step forward. “Hey, wait a second,” the pilot said. “So officially speaking Pantora is no longer fighting? The Assembly is no longer supporting you with soldiers?”

“Your rebellion exists without the local government’s consent,” Rose said.

“That is correct, Rose Tico. Our Chairwoman and the Assembly may be talking about surrender—a surrender which will mean the fall of not just our system but a great number of systems in this sector. We do not agree with this. We will not see Pantora fall.”

“Our soldiers were being overrun by the First Order,” said a young man, barely more than a boy, standing next to Assa. “We have a new strategy. And we hope that with your people helping us, it’ll give us what we need to fight off this invasion. You’ll be able to do what the soldiers sent by our government couldn’t.”

“Let me get this straight,” Finn whispered to Rose. “We’re helping this group of rebels fight a considerable chunk of the First Order, behind their government’s back—not to mention that the _Supreme Leader_ might be here, on Pantora, as well.”

“Now, you’re not counting Rey into the picture,” Rose remarked. Then, after a pause, “We shouldn’t underestimate these people before we see what they’re capable of.”

“Very well,” said Poe at last to the leader. “Let’s hear that strategy of yours.”

 

“Stars, Finn, careful with those explosives,” Rose whispered.

“I—“ There was a sound of minor commotion behind her. “I _am_ being careful. It’s all under control.” However, Rose immediately saw him balancing his load a little more carefully. “I wish _someone_ would think to tell me something at least once in a while,” he muttered.

“You don’t know less than Poe or any of the others,” Rose said, searching the dim street before signaling to the rest of their little group that it was safe to move on.

“This Assa Sii’a simply seems to trust me a bit more than the rest of you,” she added, smiling at Finn despite their precarious situation as they came to a stop. “This looks to be it.”

In a hushed silence, she, Finn and the rest of their group, consisting of Pantorans and Resistance fighters both, spread out to the locations in the area fitting their design, placing those precious items they would need to create a proper distraction.

“What I’m wondering is how a ragtag bunch of rebels can afford these kinds of armaments,” Finn said.

“Perhaps they are not all what they seem to be.” The image of Assa Sii’a flashed through Rose’s mind—the rebel leader’s eyes glinting with untold secrets.

_“Why is the Force sensitive not with us, anyway?”_ C’ai inquired in a soft voice.

“Oh, she had stuff to do,” Finn replied. “Some work or other in need of finishing. She’ll be here. No worries.”

Rose glanced at him, now smiling privately. There was nearly no trace of the unreasonable worry that had once clouded his judgement so. He had come a long way.

She arranged the last of the explosives in place, looking up to see Finn grinning back at her.

“Let’s hope this works,” he said.

 

**

 

Rey’s tiny borrowed shuttle shot out of hyperspace, streaking toward the surface of Pantora like a gleaming bolt of lightning. She steered it downward at nearly full sub-lightspeed, relying on the hope that the newly designed cloaking devices attached would prevent any First Order scanners from picking up on her presence. And steering around the Order’s vessels shouldn’t be too hard. They’d been told, initially, that the attempted invasion on Pantora would be a small-scale thing—though the world was a powerful one, it was also small, and could only hold so many resources to fend for itself.

_Huh_ , she thought now, eyeing the hordes of First Order military vessels with a vast Star Destroyer in their middle. _Small-scale invasion appears to have grown to something more like a major blockade._ Unless something else was ongoing; something all their planning and intel-gathering had not accounted for.

At some point later, she would perhaps be blaming pure, helpless stubbornness for choosing to ignore the distinct sensation she could feel through the Force. Now, her primal, most selfish instinct of survival kicked in, louder than the cacophony of warnings, forcefully shutting out thoughts that would hurt her—even if it also left her blinded.

Rey clutched the hilt of her weapon as she steered the shuttle farther down, unnoticed, through a layer of clouds and mist thickening the atmosphere above the capital; whispering a quiet thanks to Rose, the engineer behind the modified cloaking devices.

A flash of light came from the surface. She would have to work quickly. She allowed herself only a brief glimpse of the city, the landscape and the warships, spreading out in a palette of dim colours and sharp edges beneath her. Leaving the cockpit, she moved to the backmost compartment of the shuttle, picking up the few things she would need on the way. She’d left a precalculated route in the ship’s systems, one that would send it soaring straight into, and possibly through, the First Order’s line of defense on the ground at the same full sub-lightspeed after she disembarked.

_Almost too bad_ , she thought, gently patting a panel of the shuttle’s interiors. _You’re a beauty of a ship, little one._

The wayward ship, along with explosions set off in various deserted locations in the city, would draw some attention—while not all; the First Order’s commanders were too clever not to suspect it a trap—from their main target: a new temporary outpost raised by the First Order outside the city, flanked by warships, but not in itself heavily guarded. It served as a statement mostly; the Order’s first official construction on a world under siege, placed in a position to monitor the city and the area surrounding it. At most times it contained no indispensable equipment or personnel. But that was not the rebels’ main trajectory, either. Again, a statement was needed. Seizing control of the outpost might spark the fire in the Pantorans, convince them to unite in driving away the enemy forces from their system.

If the Resistance could help by taking out some of those warships on the run, it wouldn’t be so bad at all.

Rey was concerned about the presence of those extra forces assembled in orbit around Pantora. How much would it take to force them away? How much of their fleet were they willing to sacrifice attempting to seize control of a world?

Another silent explosion shook the atmosphere. A cloud of smoke rose from somewhere around the center. Close—she had moved close to the surface, the shuttle all but skimming the roofs of the buildings. It was time.

Rey unclasped the hilt of the saber from her belt and pressed the panel that would cause the ramp of the shuttle to lower, ignoring the beeps and flashes of warning from the cockpit.

The fierce wind whipped around her figure, the planet’s atmosphere greeting her.

_A bright radiance igniting in her center._

Another explosion, a blinding flash of brightness to light up the world, followed by a sound like thunder.

She drew in a deep breath, then closed her eyes and let herself fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, I am back! Hope you enjoyed this next installment after a very long break. This chapter turned out to be a lengthy one indeed, so I split it into two parts.
> 
> If you liked it, please let me know! Much love, and MTFBWY <3


	8. Rekindle the Fire, Part II

It was a bright flood of starlight, like tide breaking through a dam; washing over him and overwhelming him with its glow.

In that moment, which seemed to last an infinity—like two gazes connecting across a distance—his world seemed to fall at peace. The sudden wholeness he felt in his mind, his soul, his heart—its rhythm slowing, then abruptly increasing with a new, strange intensity—could not be otherwise described.

And all he could think was—

_Her._

 

She was… _here._

 

**

 

She was freefalling through the air, through a thin layer of low clouds invisible in the dimness, the wind howling around her. Using the Force to slow her fall and guide her path down, Rey descended toward the dark roof of the outpost tower, finally landing on her feet, light and agile as a feline—a huntress in the night. Above her, the shuttle soared on, continuing its straight path toward the enemy.

This was when she sensed his presence wholly; bright and clear, a forceful wave stopping her in her tracks and stealing away her breath. It was as if a warmth had settled around her, a second intuition, wings gently guiding her toward his presence.

But she didn’t have time to stop, didn’t have time to think.

Troopers stationed at the edge of the roof had noticed her presence at last, some of them charging toward the intruder as others called for re-enforcements.

A latch flew open at the roof’s center, and Rey corrected her stance and braced herself as the enemy stormed out.

 

**

 

A shuttle flew over their heads, flying in a collision course toward the cluster of First Order vessels assembled close by.

“Rey’s landed,” Rose spoke into her comlink. “With any luck she’s probably on the roof now. Are we all clear?”

_“Affirmative,”_ Poe responded. _“And if we’re lucky, with her as our distraction they’ll now be keeping their main focus on the sky.”_

“The gunners are in position. Once they’ve taken control of those cannons they’ll be able to cover us,” Finn said. “Let’s move in.”

Two stormtroopers stood guard at the secondary gate at the tower’s foot. The soldiers instantly started firing at the incoming group of rebels, though they were soon overwhelmed, outnumbered two to four.

With that, they were inside.

Corridor by corridor, level by level, they made their way to the room where most of their command and surveillance were assumed to be located—C’ai and Tekkan, the Chagrian, covering them from behind, Finn and Rose leading the way. By now Poe and the pilot sisters would have secured the area around the main gate. All around them alarms blared. The stormtroopers still present in these levels usually came in twos or threes, and were quickly removed from their path, always outnumbered by their group of four—one of the four being an expert marksman, another trained for their specific kind of combat.

Despite everything, Rose couldn’t help but wonder at the fact that the number of First Order soldiers seemed to thin rather than increase as they sped onward, proceeding up through the different levels toward the command room in the heart of the tower, with cameras to monitor the building and the city around it. No stormtroopers were there to block their path as they at last reached the corridor leading to a heavy blast door behind which lay, assumedly, their destination.

Seized by an instinct she might later think of as distinctively Dameron-esque, Rose raised her blaster and fired at the console next to the door, which instantly glided open.

“Technically, you’d have no way of knowing if that trick was just gonna shut us out for good,” Finn commented drily as the four of them spilled inside. “But of course, you guessed right.”

Rose smiled. “Just luck.”

Just as they were inside, two stormtroopers entered the room after them. They whirled around, blasters already raised—then one of the newcomers took off her helmet. It was Assa Sii’a, the Pantoran rebel leader.

“We entered the tower shortly after you. We’ve been following you up here, making sure no soldiers were able to chase you,” Assa explained at their startled expressions. “Hiding in the shadows is something we have become quite specialized in. But without you and your friends to clear the way, we’d never have been able to secure this outpost so effectively.”

Her companion, still clad in his armour, had moved to the numerous screens lining the room, scanning the information they offered at a few taps on the control panels. Assa met Rose’s gaze. “We are grateful for your help. But you must leave.”

“We—”

Rose was cut of by static crackling through her comlink, followed by Poe’s voice.

_“Rose—is Finn and the others still with you?”_

“Affirmative. We made it to the command deck.”

_“We have to get out of here. Heavy First Order re-enforcements arriving. They’ve taken out those cannons our gunners managed to get under control. They’re surrounding the tower—we won’t be able to fight our way out on ground level.”_

“We need another vantage point,” C’ai said. “We could use the roof.”

“But how will we get the transport—” Rose paused at the glint in the rebel leader’s eyes. “You’ve thought of that already, haven’t you?”

“One of our pilots will be moving your ship to the roof of the outpost as we speak. If your Force-sensitive friend has managed to clear the area of hostiles, your path to escape will be unhindered. You must leave now—before they have time to dispatch their TIE squadrons in the air.”

“But you’ll be even more outnumbered,” Finn broke in. “We can’t abandon Pantora now.”

“You have sacrificed more than enough,” Assa said calmly. “You have helped us gain a significant advantage. From here on, we must handle this fight ourselves. Now that we have secured the means of sending a proper message to the people, our chance will be much greater.”

Again, she turned to Rose. “It has been an honour making your acquaintance. I should like us to meet again sometime, Rose Tico.”

Rose was quiet for a moment, watching the other woman. “You’re not from here, are you?”

“Once, I had the pleasure of calling Pantora my home. I still like to return here from time to time, when there are things that need to be made right. Now, go.”

Rose hesitated for only a brief moment before leaving the room after Finn, C’ai and Tekkan, pausing only to look back on the other woman. Then she broke into a run.

 

**

 

Rey counted ten stormtroopers charging toward her, more spilling up from the level below. She wondered with a bit of surprise if this was how they would treat any intruder casually dropping down from the sky. Maybe since this was to them a hostile world on which their presence was seen by most locals as a blight. They couldn’t have any way of knowing who she was, specifically. Though they would, soon enough.

Finn, Rose, Poe—all of them were probably somewhere in the building beneath her, fighting. And… _Ben_ was here, of all places. Just the moment in which she had nearly blinded herself out of some foolish stubbornness—

It seemed that her heart was trying to break free from her chest, like a caged bird yearning to fly.

This moment of all, in which she had no idea how she would act when facing him.

She hoped the Force appreciated its own irony.

Right now, however, Rey couldn’t think about any of those things. Couldn’t let herself be distracted, for the sake of herself and her friends who trusted her.

Once more, she breathed in deeply, trying to drive the thoughts from her mind. Yet frantic energy continued to sizzle in her, like sparks through her veins; burning brightly, slowly ravaging.

She held out the handle of her lightsaber, hoping deeply that this would work the way she anticipated. The feeling she’d had the night before had been right, unquestionably true…

With a flick of her thumb, she ignited the weapon.

One bright, flaring blade shot out of the handle. Then another from the handle’s opposite end. They sizzled and sparked like a crystal fire.

And then the soldiers began to strike, and she whirled into motion, her weapon singing as it flashed through the dim night; working as an extension of herself, of the Force in her and around her. The feeling was contaminating, exhilarating, stronger than it had ever been with the old Skywalker saber—this was something new, different. This was _hers_.

Despite everything, the thought filled her with a giddy, reckless joy.

She made quick work of the troopers, using the benefit of the dual blades to fit in the same movements that had characterized her fighting style with the staff on Jakku, deflecting blaster bolts and using the Force simultaneously to render unconscious as many of them as she could.

This was when a transport rose over the edge of the roof, landing only meters away from her in the dark, two dark-clad figures disembarking. Almost in the same moment, Finn’s voice crackled over her comlink.

_“Rey, are you there? Is the roof clear? We got to the command center, Assa Sii’a says we should leave now before it’s too late—our ship should be there about now, we’re heading to your position—”_

“It’s clear,” Rey replied quickly. “The ship you’re talking of is here. Come as fast as you can.”

The Force flared in her, a bright pulsating glow, as if to say, _He is coming._

_I have to leave before he arrives_ , she thought. _Then, I can’t leave this time again._

_What will I say?_

_What will I do?_

_How much will have changed?_

The latch in the roof flew open once again, this time revealing more dark-clad figures whose Force signatures Rey instantly recognized as those of her Resistance comrades—Poe’s team arriving as the first, Rose and Finn’s following close after. They bolted toward the lowered ramp of the transport. Casting another glance skyward, Rey followed.

Rose was waiting for her at the exit of the transport, the rest of the group already inside. It rose into the air the moment Rey leapt to close the last of the space between her and the still lowered ramp—just as another ship touched down on the roof.

Slowly, instinctively, Rey turned around.

The ramp of the newly arrived shuttle slowly descended—somehow, although the darkness was thick, her eyes took everything in clearly. Inside her, the Force roared.

A cloaked figure exited the shuttle through the mist of exhaust, at last turning his face up to meet her gaze.

 

**

 

The doors positioned on either side of the council chamber flew open, a Pantoran captain followed by guards storming toward the Chairwoman.  
  
“Ma’am—we have a full overview of the areas affected by the explosions, which you probably saw for yourself… There are no casualties as of now, and it is assumed that it was meant as a distraction—”  
  
The door behind Kylo, through which he had previously entered, opened then as well as his stormtroopers spilled into the chamber despite the protestations of the Pantoran guards. Around him, many of the holograms of the Assembly members faded and vanished.  
  
“Sir, there has been a breach on the outpost,” the stormtrooper captain said. “The commander is requesting permission to—”  
  
“Let her send in the re-enforcements she needs,” Kylo said tersely. It seemed a miracle he could percept anything of what was going on around him with the way his heart was currently pounding as if to escape the boundaries of his ribcage, his head filled with that blinding light.  
  
He had to get to her. He didn’t know what he would do, what he would say… only that he had to be there—to tell her—  
  
“Get your troops to the shuttle. I’m going to the outpost myself.”  
  
“Sir, Grand Admiral Sloane strongly suggested that in case of unforeseen complications such as these—”  
  
“You are heeding my orders, not hers. Now, follow me.”  
  
Turning away from the erupting chaos of voices and movement, he all but ran out of the chamber.

So desperately he had tried to find that truth, that purpose. Tried to, somehow, set everything right. To salvage and fix what was broken, succeed one way or another—anything to keep going, to find meaning.  
  
Continuing blindly down that path even as it fell apart around him; as an illusion held for so long, the last of its dream threads finally shattering.  
  
Through the haze, other paths beginning to reveal.

Everything around him seemed a blur, misty and unclear compared with the glow of the bond, leading him to her.  
  
When the shuttle finally touched down, his stirring emotions were tainted by panic and dread. What if she was hurt, what if she was here only for him to witness her disappear before his eyes—forever leaving him behind…  
  
As he ran down the lowered ramp, another ship took off from the roof of the tower. And then, at last, despite the shadow and haze of the night, he saw her clearly, standing there at the exit of the other ship, her bright eyes shining through the darkness.

**

In the one, lingering look that passed between the two, Rose perceived not wrath, or hatred, or any emotion befitted a sworn enemy. It was something unexpectedly deep and tender; a recognition, a realization perhaps, connecting them across the distance. Both gazes held a quiet anguish and hopelessness. It was as though they might have remained like this forever, encapsulated in their own reality, not noticing or caring for what went on around them.  
  
Rose observed all this in thoughtful silence, pondering as the ramp was finally shut and the transport streaked back into the sky.

**

Armitage Hux was standing on one of the currently abandoned lower bridges of the Enlightenment, looking toward some invisible point beyond the transparent wall of the viewport, his mind filled with pieces of new information—intel that could potentially change the tide of the conflict; that could create shockwaves of chaos and disorder if properly manipulated and presented to the right people.  
  
It had come to his attention by accident, really. As he was looking through some of the recovered data from the fallen Supremacy—looking for any kind of enlightenment, any kind of leverage, any breach that might serve his cause, that might set things right.  
  
This—the current state of things—was not right. None of it was. Oh, the rage he had felt. He had been on the verge of greatness—before Ren of all people had thrown everything into chaos.  
  
But the anger had not been allowed to last for long. He would not fall to weakness—in the midst of this disorder, he must act with discipline. Always in complete control, always superior, as he had been taught by a man who was now no more. He would rise beyond. Nothing had to be broken unless he allowed it to be.  
  
There was work to be done. Chaos to be restored to order, after it had been properly exploited. And Ren had just, unknowingly, given him the opening, the chance that he needed.  
  
It was at the cause of some astromech droid’s surprisingly creative and independent work that certain recordings had been saved; recordings which shouldn’t be available to anyone, as they were from parts of the ship that had been mostly kept in a shroud of shadow and secret. The sort to weave webs of terror and power. Until it had collapsed, ripped apart by a betrayal—after it had withered and decayed from within.  
  
The recordings were from two different places, scattered bits of conversation, soon arranged chronologically—audio recordings only, but that would do very well.  
  
_“… feel the conflict in you; (…)”_  
  
_“… You underestimate Skywalker. And Ben Solo. And me.”_  
  
_“(…) he ignites it and kills his true enemy.”_  
  
There had been a lot more in between that—a lot of dull, insignificant rambling. Those last words appeared to have been heeded, as they were followed by a signature crackling, humming sound. There had been three identifiable voices on the recording. After that, there were only two. And neither belonged to the former Supreme Leader.  
  
Ren. And that girl.  
  
The rest spoke for itself. She had not been the one to kill Snoke—of course she hadn’t. That was the crucial point.  
  
Hux absently tapped a rhythm on the transparent surface before him, his bright eyes crystal cold and hard, his thin lips curling into something resembling a smile.  
  
Slaying conquerors to attain the position of the conqueror oneself was not unusual. Great power had been passed on that way many times throughout history—it was not as if the new conqueror had anything to lose by it, sometimes even the opposite of that, with the forced loyalty gained by that new position of power. Unless those serving the new leader could somehow be persuaded to work against him; to help Hux plot the Leader’s downfall from within.  
  
Not the act itself, but the assumed reasons, the circumstances surrounding it, might be enough to plant that seed. Of mistrust, of doubt—of the true reliability of his ambitions—there was already plenty, helped by the mystery surrounding that order of his, the knights who seemed now to be loyal to him only. Most of the High Command didn’t know what to believe, or how to act on that doubt—some of them held back by fear. But Hux would be their guidance, their leader whom they could understand and follow. He would create mistrust. Provoke them, when needed. Spark their courage to rise, to oppose their new Leader as they realised he was unfit to rule—it would be easy to feed their vanity, their frenzied ambition. None of which could match his own, of course.  
  
Fleets of vessels, glinting amongst shadows in the distance—all that glorious potential, his for the taking. Now appearing closer within his reach than ever. At last, he would claim his rightful place. No being in the galaxy would stand above him. It was his time to rise.  
  
Ah, Ren—this is where you meet your end.

**

_When given infinite chances—parallel moments intersecting, realities crossing, universes stretching on into the next, like a held breath between two heartbeats—one, at least, must be able to make things right._

**

All in all, it seemed a small miracle that they were able to escape the way they did.  
  
As they made it to the higher reaches of the moon’s atmosphere, they were met by a squadron of TIE fighters dispatched from above. Probably, with any hope, the majority of the First Order’s presence were yet not aware that they were of the Resistance—they likely thought that this was merely a group of local rebels trying to make their escape.  
  
With Finn and Rey in the gunner’s positions, it didn’t take long for the squadron to no longer pose a threat. However, when just one enemy ship remained, the pilot of the lone TIE fighter managed to land a severe blow—one which the transport’s remaining automatic shields weren’t strong enough to repel.  
  
“Rose, how bad is it?” Poe called to her from the cockpit.  
  
Rose was crouched down in the cramped compartment, reading the signals she could access so far from there. She felt, for the first time that day, a tinge of pain from her old wound, probably caused by overexertion.  
  
She winced as the message came through from the ship’s main computer, and not only from the pain. BB-8, who was further investigating the situation next to her, bleeped in concern. “It’s… bad. Damage is too critical for us to make it all the way back to the base.”  
  
Silence spread throughout every compartment of the small transport as they streaked into space. The First Order appeared to have given up on the pursuit. Maybe they thought they had better uses for their TIE fighters in the moment. Rose thought of the rebel leader—she deeply hoped the Pantorans would succeed, one way or another.  
  
“Maybe it’s for the best to go to another system first,” said Tekkan then in his low voice—rather surprisingly, as the Chagrian normally hardly spoke a word. “If we want to make absolutely sure the First Order doesn’t track us back to the base—there is always the risk of accidentally leaving some trail for them to follow, something we haven’t considered, if they should probably regain interest and start investigating our whereabouts. It’s better to leave them confused.”  
  
Rose slowly rose to her feet, walking to the main compartment where Rey, Finn and the rest of the team who weren’t currently piloting the ship were standing—everyone seemingly too restless after the mission to sit.  
  
“There’s a planet,” Laeya said, loud enough for Poe and C’ai in the cockpit to hear. She was studying a map, its blue light illuminating her features. “In a neighbouring system. It’s called Appaurax. Sparsely inhabited, with few major settlements, but it should be able to provide us with what we need. We could go there, lay low a few days while getting necessary repairs done. Until we have reliable reports that things have settled down one way or another. Until General Organa or any of the other leaders deem it safe to return.”  
  
“Rose, do you think the ship can handle the jump through hyperspace?” Rey asked.  
  
Anybody who looked at the Force sensitive woman would find no signs of any devastating emotions—rather than fatigued, she seemed alert and almost energetic; in stark contrast to her fellows.  
  
Rose assessed the data written in the holographic map. BB-8 beeped their consent. “A minor jump like this, I think, would not critically worsen the damage.”  
  
At least we only go through the Resistance’s fleet one transport at a time, she thought. This one had admittedly been better equipped for combat than the Iriyana—though still not sufficiently, it seemed.  
  
Or two at a time, she mentally added, thinking of the one Rey deliberately brought down to crash when she arrived on Pantora.  
  
No one were really in the mood for any kind of debate—they trusted her and the droid, it seemed, and even Poe agreed that they might as well wait to contact General Organa till they had safely landed on Appaurax.  
  
During the brief travel through hyperspace, Rose let herself slide to the floor of the compartment, leaning back against the wall whilst trying to breathe slowly and calmly. The pain was neither stark, nor unbearable—it was simply constant.  
  
At some point Rey kneeled down beside her, asking her if she was okay—if there was anything the other woman could do. Rose managed a slow shake of her head. “I’m okay.”  
  
Both women felt it in their bones when the transport re-entered realspace—through the small viewport, she could glimpse a red planet illuminated by a deeply glowing star.  
  
“We’re here,” Laeya said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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